


Shattered

by FiveLeafClover



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Graphic Description, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Post-Episode: s29 e05 born lucky, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 63,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveLeafClover/pseuds/FiveLeafClover
Summary: Ethan's childhood wasn't a real childhood, but he managed to get his life back on track. Except he begins to spiral back down into the never-ending circle of sadness and he needs someone to save him. But that seems impossible.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [backdated fic, originally posted on fanfiction/net up until Chapter 35: Thirty-Four under the username InfinityAndOne, posted here 09/06/18]
> 
> Hello! This is a new story, yet again. Just a warning - this will be very out of character for the Ethan presented in Casualty. I am aware of this and would appreciate it if you wouldn't comment on it. This story does have sensitive issues regarding mental health. This chapter is more of a backstory one but the proper story will start next chapter. This may be triggering. Please leave your feedback? Thank you!

_You say you_ _know me,_

_But you see the mask,_

_I smile on the outside,_

_But, on the inside, I'm dark._

_I cover up my feelings,_

_And you don't think much,_

_But I feel the pain and sorrow,_

_And I feel don't feel alive._

_You think I feel the happiness,_

_You think I feel alright,_

_But all I feel is empty,_

_Because there is no light._

_So I put a mask in place,_

_And you can't see the real me,_

_Because the real me is shattered,_

_It's shattered beyond belief._

_Saturday, 17 January 1998_

What was this feeling? Ethan wondered to himself while in the kitchen. It was a sense of numbness - detachment almost. Sometimes a little sadness, but that sadness was very rare. It was more of a feeling of nothingness inside of him. It was tearing him apart inside. He was just chopping up an apple, not really caring about anything- thinking more about his feelings than the task in hand. His heart hurt. Not from illness or anything, just from him. It was like his mind was telling him to give up and sleep. Sleep for an eternity. Sleep and never wake up because there's nothing to wake up to. Ethan wasn't finding happiness in anything. He really was just living because he could.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain go through his finger from where the knife slipped. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to be thinking about chopping the apple. But, strangely, he didn't mind. He felt something- he actually felt something. He looked at his now bleeding cut and somehow felt a sense of relief. He didn't feel numb, he felt release. He was almost happy. What was this new found feeling? Ethan stared at it for a few seconds longer. Then he did something he never thought he'd do. He wasn't even sure if it was normal or not, whether other people got the same feeling feeling as he did. That didn't matter. Not right now. He brought the knife down on the palm of his hand and sliced through the skin. It stung again, it was sharp, but Ethan didn't mind.

He brought his palm under the tap, washing away the blood he had made surface with his own actions. It was like the water was taking away his sadness, numbness even. Ethan almost smiled. He'd found something that was his own, and he would never let it go.

_Wednesday, 14 April 1999_

"Come on, Ethan. You're going to be late!" Cal shouted from outside his younger brother's bedroom. He knew Ethan had woken up at least half an hour before hand, but Ethan hadn't left his room. That wasn't a strange occurrence. Ethan often did that nowadays.

"I'm 14, not 4. You don't always need to tell me!" Ethan complained from inside his room. He heard Cal storm away, something which Ethan was glad about and Ethan's gaze drew from the door, back to his arm. He could see the blood drying on it from his most recent routine. One he did almost every day. He slipped the small knife that he managed to sneak out from the school canteen into his pocket as usual and pulled his sleeve down, making him hiss slightly from the pain of the material rubbing over the cuts. He didn't mind it at all. He never did.

He walked down the stairs and could see Cal with a backwards jumper on. Ethan didn't feel like he was in the real world, but he'd learnt how to act as if everything was alright. Stifling his fake laughter at how ridiculous it looked, he thought he'd better mention it to his older brother. "Caleb, you're jumper is on backwards." Ethan thigh he better laugh, so that's what he did. It was quite convincing, Ethan knew that because he got an annoyed look off of his brother.

"I'm 16 not 6," he mocked Ethan, making Ethan groan slightly at him. From where they were both stood, they could hear their mother from the kitchen.

"Play nice you two," she told them, just imagining her older son with a jumper on backwards. Even the picture of it made her smile.

"Love you, Cal." Ethan said mockingly, with which, Cal returned,

"Love you, Ethan."

Their mother laughed from the kitchen, knowing they meant it really - not that they would see it at this point in time. "Anyway, I better be off, said I'd meet Holly…" Cal trailed off, thinking dreamily of his most recent girlfriend. Ethan shook his head dismissively. This was the third girlfriend in a month. Cal would never admit it, but he was just as reckless as their father. "You're going to be late if you don't get a move on, Eth." Cal told him seriously - forever looking out for Ethan.

Ethan smiled inwardly to himself. The mask he had put put in place was holding. And it was working.

_Thursday, 27 July 2000_

Ethan cried. 15 year old Ethan cried his heart out. He couldn't take it any longer. He felt so horrible, so upset. He felt empty before, he felt ever so empty. But now all of the feelings he longed to felt caught up on him and he didn't like it. He rolled his sleeves up and saw scars, old scars. Some from two years ago, some from last year. He ran his finger over some of them. Some were recent, red and sore, stinging. He didn't mind. He'd spent the last two years feeling numb to the world. He just wanted it to end. He wanted everything to end. Right there and then, and Ethan was determined to make that happen.

_Sunday, 06 August 2000_

Cal was worried. His brother was allowed home under close supervision, but Cal still thought it was too soon. Way too soon. His little brother had tried to kill himself. His little brother had brought a knife to his own skin and tried to kill himself. If Cal hadn't have walked in when he did...

He shuddered at the thought. But there wasn't just what his brother had tried to do 10 days ago, it was what he had been doing for two years. Ethan had admitted to it, to doing it for two years. Cal could tell he regretted saying it afterwards, but that wasn't important. Ethan was getting help, and that was the main thing. He still wondered whether Ethan should have been kept in longer. It didn't seem right. Nothing really felt right. Cal didn't notice the decline in Ethan. It went on for two years, but Ethan's  _older brother_  didn't even notice. That didn't matter. Cal was going to be there for Ethan. All the time.

_Thursday, 08 March 2001_

7 months. Cal couldn't believe it. Obviously Ethan wouldn't have been cured in 7 months, but he would have thought that his little brother would have made some improvement. Boy, was he wrong. He was now watching over his sleeping brother who was lying, sedated, in a hospital bed after trying to overdose. Cal was shocked at it. Twice in less than a year. He could tell Ethan was getting desperate. He had new marks on his arms, almost covering the old ones. Cal sighed. Whatever was wrong with Ethan, Cal would help him get through it.

_Thursday, 11 April 2002_

Third time. Method: overdose. Success: no. Luckily. Cal accepted Ethan had Depression. He accepted it right from the beginning- when Ethan was diagnosed with it a year ago. But the third attempt still came as a shock to him. He really thought everything was getting better, going back to normal, but it turns out Ethan was hiding behind a mask. He was 17, but Cal still saw him as a vulnerable 15 year old. Cal didn't ever want to let Ethan out of his sight, but he had to, no matter how much it hurt him. He just hoped Ethan would seek other methods of relief. Other methods to escape his inner turmoil. But that was all Cal could do. He could only hope.

_Sunday, 14 December 2003_

It was a breakthrough, a miracle almost. Cal was studying when he heard heard a knock on the door. He slowly opened it to see a pale-faced Ethan. He had red and puffy eyes and Cal could tell he'd been crying. He would never forget the sentence Ethan spoke to him. It was honestly like a light in the dark. "I want to do it, Cal. But I won't. I said i wouldn't, and I won't. I want to sit with you instead." Cal immediately knew what Ethan was talking and brought his 18 year old brother into a hug. Ethan had gone to Cal, something the older older of the two had wished for all along. Cal knew it was the start of the healing process.

A healing process he never imagined would fall apart many years later.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living." - Marcus Tullius Cicero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I was so glad when I received those positive reviews. I was really unsure about this story and I kind of dreaded looking at the reviews for fear everyone would hate it. I'm so very glad that is not the case. This is back in the present (well, nearly present) day now, and shall stay that way! The fact that I started with a prologue type thing means that the automatic chapter thing -y will always be one ahead than the current proper chapter… if that makes sense. It's a little confusing for me, but I hope it's alright for you! In answer to the guest's question: yes. Anyway, on with the first proper chapter!

_Saturday, 04 October 2014_

Cal watched as the two nurses left his little brother's room, leaving him alone with his still unconscious brother. Cal looked down at the sleeping Ethan. He had an oxygen mask firmly fixed over his face, his skin was pale, he was hooked up to machines and he had a dressing on his right side from the thoracotomy. Cal, no matter how many times he had seen it in patients, and indeed his brother, would never get used to the sight of it.

"Thought you promised me never again?" Cal spoke sarcastically as he sat by the bed. His legs felt weak and the stress and tiredness from the day started to catch up on him. "God, you certainly worried me there, Ethan." Cal blew out a long breath. Ethan couldn't hear him, but Cal still found comfort in talking to him. He always did. Even when Ethan was sleeping when they were younger, Cal would sneak into his room, lie in Ethan's bed next to the younger one, and talk quietly to him. It was an action he always found comfort in, still to this day. "You… we, went through so much when we were younger… I'm glad it wasn't ruined now. Although, I suppose I better add this to the ' _amount of times I've saved Ethan's life_ ' tally!" He laughed sadly. A tear dripped down his face and he wiped it away hastily, even though no one could see him. The memories of years ago flashed through his mind but he pushed them to the back of his thoughts. That was gone and passed. "You better not try anything like that again. It's not good for my heart!" Cal took a deep breath in. "I'm so glad you're alive, Ethan. You're my little brother, and I'll always love you." Cal sniffed and he hesitated to hold Ethan's hand. He retracted his own instantly and stood up, smiling at his peacefully sleeping brother. He couldn't hold Ethan's hand, not yet. It was too hard. It only reminded him of when they were younger.

His tear filled eyes, even though he didn't want to look, drew to Ethan's bare arms. His heart clenched at them. The scars were mostly faded - helped by different creams Ethan had gathered over the years - but you could still see them. To Cal - they were as clear as day. He just hoped no one else treating his brother saw them. He doubted it. Not even he, himself, thought about or noticed them while trying to save his brother's life. Now was a different matter, though. No longer were people saving his life, they were just monitoring him. When Ethan finally wakes, Cal knew he was going to want a long sleeved top. Just in case.

Cal blew out a shaky breath as he left his little brother's room - where Ethan was still peacefully sleeping and recovering. He smiled in spite of it all. In spite of the day that was thrown upon him, that shook his world, that pulled at his heart. He seemed to have a knack for saving Ethan's life, only this time, thankfully, Ethan wasn't intending to take his own. When Cal saw Ethan on death's door, he could only be thankful that he knew Ethan was  _fighting_  for his life, that he wasn't giving up.

He nearly lost his life because of a stupid car crash. Ethan nearly  _died_  because a man didn't look where he was going. Cal leaned against the wall nearby to Ethan's room, glad Ethan would be okay. He remembered the helpless look he received off of Ethan when he was treating his little brother. Ethan was in so much pain, and he seemed truly terrified, but his brother really was fighting for his life - something Cal was more than happy to see. Obviously, he hated seeing Ethan so weak and vulnerable, but this time, Ethan  _wanted_  to live. Their mother would be so pleased if she was alive. She would be so pleased to see that Ethan wasn't giving up.

Cal made his way back down to the ED, wiping his tears away. He could feel tears still threatening to creep out of his eyes, but he was more or less composed. He could feel his eyes still stinging from the sheer effort he had not to cry - even though a few tears still fell. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes once more and knew he looked less emotional now.

Upon arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he noticed something strange. A crowd of his colleagues were stood around the reception desk. Even Lily - who should have been resting after the terrible ordeal she experienced earlier in the day. Something bad must have happened to cause her to be out of her cubicle. He stood in amongst them, eyes laid on what they seemed to be staring at. He stood, confused for a moment or two, then he saw it. Something terrible had obviously happened at the crash site.

Dixie and Jeff walked solemnly through the doors into the ED, dreading telling everyone who hadn't made it when the van unexpectedly blew up. They both examined who was in front of them, staring at them, awaiting the news, the terrible news they had to deliver. Charlie, Connie, Tess, Tamsin, Cal, Noel, Louise, Robyn, Rita, Max, Lofty, and a few others, including Lily, who wanted to hear the news about the car crash she was involved in. That was a lot of people to break the news to at once. Jeff and Dixie exchanged a quick glance with each other. They almost wanted the other person to say something, but neither could muster up the courage.

Charlie was the one who finally broke the tension with one simple name. "Ash?" He asked hopefully, with an air or despair lacing his tone. He hadn't come through the doors after Dixie and Jeff. He hadn't been admitted yet. Everyone now hoped that he was held up in another ambulance; held up in traffic, even. Yet they knew, deep down, that it wasn't the case. Jeff shook his head solemnly. Ash hadn't made it. The car crash had injured four people, but taken a good man's life. Everyone felt the rush of pain, the rush of conflicting emotions that arrived when news like that was delivered. Their colleague, their friend, was never to step foot through those doors again, was never to grace the ED with his warm smile, was never to save another life, and no one got the chance to say good bye.

No one spoke, no one had the words, the sentences, to say anything. There wasn't any need. The pain of losing Ash practically radiated off of everyone. No one made a move, everyone just stood still. They were all trying to get their heads around what happened, they were all trying to contemplate the loss of their colleague and friend.

Someone moved eventually. It was Cal. They saw him dart up the stairs in double quick time, taking the stairs two at a time. He nearly slipped once, but he was fast. Everyone either knew or guessed why he left reception. They all drew one conclusion, one correct conclusion. Ethan had been involved in the crash and he didn't knew that it had, in fact, claimed a life. Cal was there to wait by him, to tell him the devastating news we he woke.


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you'd ever left behind riding on your shoulders." - Paolo Bacigalupi, The Drowned Cities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's an early update because I'm going camping from tonight and won't have access to WiFi. No updates for a week! Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, I don't think I can thank you enough! Here's the third chapter and I hope you enjoy!

Ethan felt horrible. He was tired, his chest burned, his throat felt sore- the list goes on. He knew he was in hospital as a patient. He knew it was because of the car crash. The car crash  _he_  caused. He knew- from Cal's little speech when he thought Ethan wasn't listening- that Cal saved his life. Ethan felt to tired to open his eyes to let Cal know that he was awake- and, anyway, Cal seems to say more- in the way of true feelings- when he thinks Ethan is sleeping. Something which Ethan has taken advantage of in the past. He did feel a feather light movement- almost air brushing over his hand just before Cal left. He could only assume that was Cal's hand.

Ethan heard to door open again- and thought it was only nurses like it kept being. He heard the distinct voice of his brother telling the people already in the room to step outside. His voice seemed different. Ethan couldn't quite put his finger on it- but it sounded more strained then usual. He heard the door shut and his brother flop down into a chair. He heard Cal sniff quite loudly. Had he been crying? Ethan thought he better open his eyes- he could try anyway. He still didn't really know if he could manage it.

Cal was looking at Ethan- waiting for him to wake up. He needed to know straight away about Ash- before anyone else could have the chance to tell him. If anything, it needed to come from Cal, and Cal alone. Cal looked closer at Ethan and saw that he was, in fact, awake. Opening his eyes seemed like an effort for him. "Ethan? Can you hear me, buddy?" Cal asked quietly and gently.

"Mm..." Ethan answered. Wow- he'd never found it so hard to talk. It was like his throat was clogged up. It didn't really feel right not to be able to speak properly. Ethan knew it would wear off- these things always would.

"Ethan, the thing is," Cal hesitated. How was he meant to break this to his brother? He could always ease Ethan into it, give his brain time to wake up. That way, it would come as that much of a shock. Ethan would be slowly brought to the terrible news of Ash's death. Then there was also the option of telling him straight and getting it out as soon as possible. In Ethan's weak state, he may not understand first time- Cal would have to repeat it. It probably would come out very bluntly- something which Cal wanted to avoid. Then there was the option of just leaving it completely. Wait...why was Cal even considering putting it off?  _No. First option maybe. Yes, first option. Definitely first option._  "Ash is dead."  _First option! You said you were going for the first option! That was not the first option! What. An. Idiot._

Ethan heard his brother but didn't quite comprehend what he said. He said Ash was dead, right? Had he heard correctly? No, he mustn't have done. No one was dead, surely? Ash was caught up in the crash, did he die because of that? Did the crash Ethan  _cause_  kill Martin Ashford? No, no, no. He refused to believe it. No way. He heard Cal wrong. Yes, that happened. He heard Cal wrong.

"Eth?" His brother asked. Ethan's eyes focused more on Cal's face. They were tear stained and Cal had tears gathering in the corner's of his eyes. He looked like he was trying to hold himself together. He looked like he would crack from the strain of holding it together if he did for much longer. "Talk to me, Ethan. What are you thinking?" Ethan didn't really know how to put into words what he was thinking. His thoughts were more of a jumbled mess than anything else, and he knew he could barely talk anyway- let alone talk loud enough so Cal would hear it through the oxygen mask Ethan didn't have the strength to remove.

"Ash?" Ethan croaked. He saw Cal reluctantly and slowly nod. "Dead?" Another nod and a couple of tears falling from Cal's red eyes. This must have been some joke. A sick one at that. It definitely wasn't a very funny joke and Ethan kind of wished Cal would give up already. It couldn't have been real. Ash was conscious, talking, breathing... fine. He was fine at the crash. What happened to make him die- if he did, which Ethan still doubted. Maybe blood loss- his leg was trapped if Ethan's memory served him correctly. There would be no other reason for his death. The paramedics were brilliant which meant that they would have been able to stem the bleed, free Ash, and transport him to the ED- before his colleagues could save him. "Can't be." He decided aloud. Cal took a moment or two before taking Ethan's hand in his own.

"Look, Eth, I know this is a lot to take in-"

"-how did he die?" Ethan's voice what that of a whisper and he was already feeling increasingly tired. Cal didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know himself. He guessed it was some sort of fire- judging by the ash-covered faces of Dixie and Jeff. Maybe there was a petrol leak or something and the van caught fire? That was very plausible and wasn't rare in car accidents. But, how could he tell Ethan something he wasn't sure of?

"You get some rest, Ethan. I'll come back later." Cal said eventually, letting go of his little brother's hand- which felt sort of painful- and leaving the room in one swift motion.

Ethan looked at the door as it shut and wondered what just happened. Was Ash really dead, if so, how did he die? Ash was probably dead, he decided. Cal wouldn't lie to him like that and he certainly wasn't _that_  good of an actor. Ash was dead... he was actually dead, right? Ethan finally fell into a deep slumber- the last thought on his mind being, ' _it's my fault Ash is dead_ '.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn't do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing." ― D.D. Barant, Dying Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. Thank you again for your reviews. It's always nice to receive them to get feedback! Before I start this chapter, I'm just going to mention something. Honey will not exist in this story, and nor will Taylor. There will be own characters popping up, though. Also, this story will have quite a few mentions of self-harm, suicide and depression. If you are triggered by either three, please don't read this story. Considering I soon go back to school, I've decided to get rid of my updating schedule because I have my GCSEs this year and they really do take priority, so I don't want to have an update schedule to try and stick to. It also means there might be long waits in between chapters, but I'll try to update as regularly as I can. Sorry! On with the fourth (pretty long) chapter!

_Sunday, 05 October 2014_

Ethan couldn't sleep that night. He would've tossed and turned but in his current situation, moving hurt quite a lot. He was just lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hearing the steady beep of his own heart monitor beside him, an oxygen mask over his face, and a dull ache on his left side. He wished it would all stop; the pain, the constant beeping, the haunting thoughts, the guilt. It was  _his_  fault that such a beloved doctor had died. He should have done more, he was driving that van. He should have known where to go, he should have looked properly for any oncoming cars, he should have made sure the paramedics got Ash out first. He should have died instead. No, he wasn't going to go there. That was the old Ethan, the stupid one, the one who didn't know any better. But, he still couldn't get rid of the guilt that was eating away inside him; that was tearing him apart. One thing was for certain, he needed to know how Ash died and he needed to put it right.

Ethan must have been awake for most the night, only dropping off occasionally. Every time he did doze of, he was jolted awake by dreams of the crash. His muscles tensed and he moved on the bed, making him cry out in pain a few times. A nurse would rush into the room but Ethan would brush them off and say it was a nightmare. They would leave and Ethan would be tasked with trying to forget about what had happened. He definitely didn't though. No matter how many times he tried to think of something good, guilt would plague his mind. He just wanted it to stop.

Cal came up from his shift to visit Ethan, and was surprised to find him wide-awake. It was only nine in the morning and Cal guessed his little brother would be sleeping. He'd had a day of it yesterday. "Hey, Ethan." Cal whispered so he wouldn't startle him. He saw Ethan turn his head towards him. "How're you feeling?" He enquired. Cal saw Ethan take off the oxygen mask weakly.

"Never better." Ethan responded hoarsely, smiling slightly. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot," said Cal, taking a seat next to his little brother.

Ethan knew he had to approach this carefully. "How did... how did Ash die?" He noticed Cal shake his head and stay silent. "Cal, please... I need to know..." Ethan begged, voice becoming quieter as the strain of talking started to catch up on him.

"Maybe later, Ethan. I've got to get back to work." Cal brushed off, standing up. Ethan looked at him, pleading for him to stay. "I can't Ethan. I'm on shift." Ethan turned his head away and shut his eyes. He heard the door click shut and he was alone- something he really didn't want right now. Being alone with his thoughts was driving him mad. If he could walk- stand even- he would get out of the hospital and go home. Somewhere Cal would be able to distract him.

Cal felt bad leaving Ethan alone after spending such little time with him. He'd spent all of twenty seconds with Ethan, but Ethan would continue to ask how Ash died and Cal didn't really want to give him an answer when he was in such a vulnerable state. It would only hurt him more. When Ethan was more recovered, more able to take in the brutal way a colleague had died- then Cal would tell him. He made his way down to the ED and stood, absent-minded, in reception, thinking about how he would tell Ethan the way in which Ash died. He would need to word it correctly, he would need to be as sensitive as possible-

"-how is he?" Lofty appeared behind Cal, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Cal nodded, "he's good, yeah. He's alright." Cal didn't really know. He hadn't spent long with him just then, or the day before.

"Look, Cal... can I talk to you about something?" Lofty hesitantly asked. Cal looked confused. "It'll only take a minute. In private, though."

Cal agreed, but he had no idea what Lofty wanted him for. He sounded apprehensive, and Cal ran through hundreds of possible thoughts in his head about what could be so important about what Lofty wanted to say. Cal followed Lofty to the staff room and watched Lofty nervously bite his lip as he started to speak.

"When we were treating Ethan yesterday... I..." Lofty stopped, unsure of how to approach this situation. He'd seen something, something that worried him. He'd noticed pale and somewhat faded marks on Ethan's arms. Originally, he didn't think anything of them. Maybe he'd fallen over into a rose bush as a kid, or something. Then, out of pure curiosity over what could have caused them, he picked up Ethan's hospital notes and flicked through them. Two words stood out as he skimmed through everything.  _Attempted suicide_. That made him hastily put down the notes and make sure no one else could see them or read them. Lofty even went to the extent to make sure no one else picked them up and read through them. He wasn't sure whether he was seeing things or not, but it would do better talking to Cal instead of digging deeper by himself.

"Spit it out, Lofty." Cal chuckled.

"I saw something... on, er, on his arms." Cal's eyes widened and he stepped back out of shock. He thought no one noticed. He thought it would stay a secret. "And then... I looked... well... I didn't mean to look... but in his hospital notes-"

"-what did you see?" He whispered, voice cracking under the strain of emotion.

Lofty drew in a deep breath and said, "attempted suicide."

Cal nearly fell onto the sofa as his legs felt too weak to hold him any longer. "Oh God..." He felt Lofty sit down beside him, but all Cal cared about was making sure Lofty kept silent. Ethan and Cal had kept this secret silent for twelve years. It was safe in the ground, deep down and pushed to the back of their memories- hopefully never to be unearthed ever again. But then this happened. Someone else knew, oh Jesus, someone else knew. Someone they worked with. "Please don't tell anyone." Cal muttered to the nurse. "Or Ethan. Don't tell him you know. Please," he all but begged.

"I won't. I swear it." Lofty intended to keep to that promise. He was not in the habit of gossiping. "You don't have to answer, but... but what happened?" Lofty saw tears gathering in the corners of Cal's eyes and knew how hard it must be for him. "It's okay, forget I asked." Lofty brushed off, making to stand up.

Cal stopped him walking off. It was true, he'd kept this to himself for twelve years. Neither he nor his brother had told their mother- the doctors always did that. Maybe the weight Cal felt he carried could be lifted by telling someone. Someone who could help if something goes wrong again. Maybe all Cal needed to do is tell someone. "No, no. I'll tell you..." Cal said after a few moment's silence. He inhaled deeply and started to re-live the most painful memories of his childhood. "I don't know when it all started... around 1998 I think... but I only knew in 2000... I was 17, so Ethan must have been around 15..."

_"Come on, Ethan!" Caleb called up the stairs to his younger brother. "We have to go!" Typical Ethan, taking his time. They were going to their local park. Periodically, they would visit it. Cal liked the serenity the park always held- it was somewhere to escape too. In amongst the trees and the grass. Not that he ever told anyone this. Instead, he told them he was only going to look after his younger brother. He knew Ethan liked the park too- for the exact same reasons._

_Minutes passed and Ethan wasn't downstairs. "Come on! How long does it take for you to do your hair?!" Cal joked. There was still no sound and Cal started to get worried. Worried because there had been no sound coming from upstairs in the last fifteen minutes. Had something happened? "Ethan, you alright?" He called. Nothing._

_Cal slowly started ascending the stairs, listening out for any movement or any reply from his brother. There wasn't anything. It was just... silent. It was a deafening silence that filled upstairs. "Ethan... say something to me, Ethan!" He shouted as he reached the top of the staircase. There was nothing to indicate Ethan was even upstairs. Nothing but the sound of raspy breaths that could only be coming from one person._

_Cal darted into Ethan's room, but he wasn't in there. His bed looked slept in, but he wasn't in there. Then he knocked on the bathroom door- where he now discovered the raspy breaths were coming from. "Ethan? Are you in there?" No answer, yet again. "Ethan, please!" Cal had tears coming out of the corners of his eyes as a million different scenarios raced through his head. He wished his mother was home, but she had to pop into work. He needed his mother right now. "Ethan, I'm going to break this door down if you don't let me in," he warned, in hope that Ethan would open it. Still nothing._

_Cal tensed him muscles and slammed into the door with his shoulder. He felt the door vibrate and his shoulder hurt, but the door didn't budge. He did it again, sure to get a bruise in the morning- but the door didn't even show signs of opening. Then, Cal had a brainwave- he almost slapped himself. There were much easier ways of getting in._

_He scrambled around in his room, looking for a stray coin. He wished he was more like Ethan and kept his money in a safe place; rather than in random trouser pockets or in his sock draw or just on the floor. He looked for a good few minutes before finding a 2p coin. He tossed up and down it in his hand out of relief and raced to the bathroom door again. He put it in the lock and carefully turned it. He heard the lock click and he knew the door was unlocked. He dropped the coin in his pocket and slowly grasped the handle, opening the door._

_Cal fell to his knees when he saw his brother. He was pale-faced, a knife in his outstretched hand. A bloody knife. He had a deep cut on his right arm which was bleeding heavily. It overlapped many- too many to count- cuts that Cal could tell had been self-inflicted. There were cuts on his left arm too, but not any as deep as the one on his right. It made Cal sit in mute shock. His brother was dying right before his eyes. Cal knew Ethan was trying to end his own life, he could very well tell. But that didn't make him act any faster._

_Cal wasn't a doctor, he didn't know what to do. He should probably call an ambulance but he didn't want to leave Ethan. Then he thought again, Ethan wasn't exactly going anywhere. Cal stood up shakily and ran downstairs to the land-line phone. He dialed the most important number to him right now, 999._

_"Emergency services, what service do you require?" Came the voice on the end of the phone._

_"Er...I need an ambulance, please!" Cal spoke frantically, constantly thinking of what could have possessed Ethan to do such a thing._

_"Okay, just stay calm and I'll connect you to another person." The operator said, doing just that._

_"Hello?" Someone entirely different asked._

_"Please help me! It's my little brother!" Cal replied. "I think... I think he's dying!"_

_"Okay, just try and stay calm. What's your name?" It was a female voice, a calm one that Cal found he quite liked. He needed a calming voice right now._

_"Cal... my name's Cal."_

_"Okay, Cal, where are you? What's your location?"_

_Cal didn't have the best memory, he sometimes forgot the number of his own house. Now was not the time for that, and he wracked his memory. "Er... 16 Stanley Street- near the Farmead Estate in Holby."_

_"Okay, the ambulance is on it's way but I need you to carry on talking to me. How old is your brother?"_

_"15, Ethan's 15. He's only 15." Cal's voice cracked from emotion. His little brother was only 15 and, yet, he tried to end his own life._ 'I won't let you, Ethan. No way.' _Cal told himself in his head._

_"Can you tell me what happened, Cal?"_

_"He has a cut on his arm... I think he was trying to kill himself... you have to help him, please!"_

_"The ambulance will be there shortly, just stay on the line. How old are you, Cal?"_

_"I'm 17."_

_"Okay, is your brother conscious and breathing?"_

_Cal almost forgot about the fact he had just left his brother. Alone. Bleeding. "He was breathing... but he wasn't awake... but I had to come downstairs to use the phone..."_

_"Where's your brother?"_

_"He's in the bathroom upstairs... I didn't want to leave him... but I had to..." He explained._

_"Okay, don't hang up, just go upstairs and check on your brother, alright? Check if he's breathing and conscious still, Cal."_

_Cal left the phone dangling and ran back upstairs. He looked at his brother like he'd only just discovered him again. He fell to his brother's side and checked his breathing. A wash of relief came over him as Ethan was still breathing- yet it sounded worse than before. He shook Ethan's shoulders but his little brother didn't rouse. "Please, Ethan. Wake up, for me." Cal pleaded, but nothing happened. He remembered the operator on the phone and ran back downstairs. "He's breathing but he's not awake... there's so much blood... I don't want to leave him alone..."_

_"The ambulance should arrive soon, but I need you to keep calm, alright?" She said._

_All Cal wanted was to hold his brother close. To tell him everything would be okay. All he wanted was for Ethan to open his eyes and say it was a mistake. All he wanted was Ethan. "Yeah... should I bring him down here... then he won't be alone-"_

_"-don't move him, Cal. Just leave him where he is for now."_

_Cal wanted to disagree, but knew she was probably right. She was older and wiser. Then, Cal heard a knock on the front door, and he heard someone shout, "ambulance service!"_

_"The ambulance is here." Cal told the operator, filled with a sense of relief._

_"Okay, Cal. Open the door okay, and tell them everything you know."_

_"Yeah, okay, thank you." He heard the operator hand up and Cal immediately ran to the door and opened it, not really believing he was in this situation._

Lofty watched as tears slowly made their way down Cal's cheeks and Cal trembled. Cal wiped them away hastily. "I'm sorry..."

"You don't need to apoligise, Cal. It must have been very hard for you." Cal nodded, feeling his heart hurt as he recalled that day.

"It's just... hard." Cal described. "I've never really spoken about it before. It's never really been brought up."

"You don't have to carry on, but what happened afterwards?"

"He was okay, I guess. I mean, he told me that he'd been... well... cutting-" Cal shuddered, "-for two years. He told me he would stop. He didn't. I didn't know much about anything back then, so I thought he wouldn't do it and it would be as easy as pie." Cal laughed slightly, more tears making his way down his cheeks. "It took seven months for him to break again. He took an overdose of tablets. He struggled against everything and everyone and I had to watch my own brother being sedated..." Cal's voice trailed off as he recalled what happened.

_"No! Get off of me, please!" Ethan begged while in hospital, trying to get out of the grip of the hands restraining him. "Please, you have to leave me alone," cried Ethan, tears streaming down his face. "I'm begging you to leave me alone, it's my choice, you have to leave me to die!"_

_Cal stood back, away from Ethan's line of sight like the doctor instructed him to. He said it would help Ethan be calm, but Ethan was anything but calm right now. He could hear Ethan's wailed pleas for them to let him die, but Cal had faith in the medical staff treating his brother that they wouldn't let his little brother die. Cal noticed new cuts on Ethan's arms, and it physically hurt him to know what was happening to Ethan._

_"Please..." Cal heard Ethan plead, "I can't live... I don't want to be alive! You have to let me die..." Cal then drew his attention over to one of the doctors holding Ethan down._

_"Sedation?" He asked. Another doctor nodded in agreement. Cal wanted to tell them not to. Cal wanted to tell them to help Ethan without sedating him, but he knew it was for the best._

_He watched the scene play out before him. He watched as they sedated Ethan, he watched as Ethan's struggling died down until Ethan was peacefully under the influence of the sedative and wasn't fighting anymore._

Cal felt a hand on his knee and he was brought back to the present. "Sorry... I've never really thought about it again."

Lofty shook his head in dismissal. "I understand. Do you want to stop?"

Now it was Cal's turn to shake his head. He was right, telling someone about it made him feel better after all these years. All he needed was a friend to listen. He knew Lofty would support him if anything bad happened again- not that Cal was expecting it to. "He, er, got diagnosed with depression- clinical depression." He heard Lofty gasp in shock.

"Was he given anything to help?"

"Anti-depressants." Cal answered simply, before continuing, "just over a year later, in 2002, he tried again; with the medication he was on. It was horrible. He promised me never again, and I didn't believe him, but that was the last time. He was still...cut-cutting, but it decreased. In- I think- 2003, he came to me. He was 18, and he came to me saying he wanted to do it. He said he wouldn't. We sat together and that was the last time it was ever brought up. I mean, I left home soon after- when I was convinced Ethan was okay. But, he's been fine ever since."

Lofty smiled. "That's good, Cal. That's really good. If he's better, if he's been better for the past 12 years, it's really fantastic." Lofty spoke reassuringly, Cal nodded- unaware that his little brother was currently tearing himself apart over the guilt he felt for the death of Ash.


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Guilt is not a response to anger; it is a response to one's own actions or lack of action." ― Audre Lorde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Thank you so much for the positive response to the story so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story as it progresses.

_Monday, 06 October 2014_

Ethan blew out a breath, wincing as his left side suddenly stung. It had been five days since the car crash and nothing was changing. Yes, Ethan was gradually getting better, but he still hadn't found out how Ash died; everyone refused to tell him. Well, not refused exactly. Ethan could tell, every time he asked about it, people would change the subject. Even Cal. He kept saying, ' _I'll tell you when it's right_ '. But when would it be right?! When a year had passed and no one was emotionally wrapped up in it anymore?! That just wasn't good enough.

"Hey, Ethan." Cal greeted as he waltzed into the room. "How're you today?"

"Same as usual." Ethan replied glumly, hand resting on his side. That was his normal position now - it was almost like he was protecting his left side from some kind of threat or danger.

"Well, I had this patient earlier, really interesting case actua-"

"-please tell me how he died." Ethan interrupted staring at the wall opposite him. He heard Cal sigh.

"When will you stop asking me, Ethan?" He could hear the frustration in Cal's voice and was, admittedly, a little hurt by it. He didn't mean to make Cal angry, he just needed to know.

"When you tell me how he died."

"I don't want to think about it!" Ethan turned his head further away from Cal's raised voice. There was a moment's pause. "I'm sorry, Eth. I didn't mean to shout." Ethan just shrugged.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, before the younger of the two broke it.

"Can you pass me my laptop?" Ethan asked, sitting up a little more and trying to not to show how much it hurt to do it. Cal nodded and did as Ethan asked straightaway.

"Considering you're going to be busy on your laptop, I guess I better go," said Cal, making to leave. Ethan would have stopped him, but right now, he needed to do something a lot more important. "See you later, Ethan." He noticed how Cal sounded a little downhearted, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was only focused on the task in hand - Cal's feelings could wait until later.

"Bye," Ethan said simply, getting back to his laptop. He typed in his password, and then brought up the internet browser webpage. His fingers hovered over the keys for a few seconds as he debated what to type in; something that would get him what he wanted. He never really knew how to get exactly the search you needed, but he had or give it a go.

Finally, he typed in, ' _Holby car crash side-swiped van_ '. He waited for the search results to load, and scrolled down.

There were quite a lot of search results, but none of them related to the exact crash Ethan was looking for, and oh boy the were a lot of crashes. Ethan felt a little disturbed by how many there were, and how many results relating to death there were,

Then, finally, there was one result that caught his eye. ' _Holby car crash van blowing up_ '. It was on a website that Ethan recognised as holding video files. Did he really want to watch a video of a van blowing up? He didn't really want to, but it was possible this was the crash he was looking for. He couldn't miss the chance.

He warily clicked on the link and was taken to a page… it was definitely a video file. He saw the thumbnail - it was the van. The van that he was driving. Maybe this was how Ash died.

His fingers pressed the mouse pad and the video started playing. There was no way he was backing out now. There was a rush; he heard (even though it was clearly a video shot on a mobile phone, judging by the quality) Dixie's voice ring out.

" _Jeff, I can't find the collar!"_  She shouted to her partner.

Ethan watched Jeff laugh and the young doctor smiled to himself. Jeff ran over to the ambulance; just to the side of the shot. Ethan wished the phone had followed Jeff. He paused the shot and took in the state of the crash.

It was a mess. There were multiple emergency services. The van didn't even look like a stable van. It was on its side, the windshield smashed and removed. There were patches of blood in the van and Ethan could just make out the injured Ash.

But then something dreadful happened. Something which told Ethan exactly how Ash died.

There was a humongous explosion. It engulfed the van instantly. Yellow and orange flames danced around; smoke filled the air. He saw Jeff and Dixie try to rush to the van, but they were held back. Ethan knew already that Ash was dead. But he wasn't just dead. He was blown up. Blown to smithereens. Ethan could immediately tell there would be nothing left of Ash. He died a horrible death.

And he caused it.


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." ― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a quick thank you for the support I've had on this story so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.

_Tuesday, 07 October 2014_

"Come on, Ethan. You have to put that laptop away sometime." Cal berated his little brother. Ever since Ethan had discovered the clip of the van blowing up, he hadn't stopped watching it.

"But someone stood there - filming a crash site. Who would ever think of doing that... it's disrespectful." He concluded.

Cal shook his head in disbelief, "so is you watching Ash's death over, and over, and  _over_."

He watched as Ethan give him a momentary glance of disbelief mixed with shame, before he shut the laptop and leant back against the pillows, turning his head away from Cal.

Ethan cleared his throat and spoke in a strained voice. "I just - um - he shouldn't have died. That's all."

"Are you sure that's all?" Cal questioned softly.

Ethan nodded, then the brothers fell into an uneasy silence. Cal wanted Ethan to speak, but could understand why he wouldn't. He wasn't long in an accident after all - any normal person would be shaken up. Cal didn't see the point in staying if Ethan wouldn't speak - and he, himself, didn't know what to say - but Lofty had agreed to pick something up from Ethan's flat, and had agreed to come up to Ethan's room to 'deliver' it, as it were.

He needn't wait long, for Cal heard to door click and watched the door open.

"I come bearing gifts!" The nurse joked, making Cal smile.

"Hi," greeted Ethan simply, voice devoid of emotion.

Lofty glanced at Cal after Ethan's response and Cal simply shrugged.

"Ethan... I got Lofty to go to your flat when he was free, and he picked up a suit. I mean, I've cleared it with your doctor, so if you want..." He trailed off. Ethan turned towards Cal, and Cal smiled warmly at him.

"Wha-? Go to the funeral?" He questioned in confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, you can go in a wheelchair and stuff-"

"-no thanks." Ethan said.

"Come on, mate," Cal encouraged. He would have thought his brother would have done anything to go to the funeral of a colleague. He had known Ethan to respect Ash and his work, but Ethan's reasoning made sense.

"I don't really feel up to it, Cal. Thanks anyway, thanks Lofty," he explained, closing is eyes - obviously trying to go to sleep.

"Well, I'll come and see you later, yeah?" Cal asked. Upon receiving no answer from Ethan, he and Lofty left to go to work. Cal did want to go to the funeral, but he couldn't without leaving the ED short-staffed. He was thankful, in a sense, that Ethan didn't want to go to the funeral. Cal wouldn't have been able to keep an eye on him if he did go to the funeral.

* * *

He was tired, fed up, and annoyed.

Not only had the ED been quiet and eerie - the same as it had been ever since the accident - but he'd had such boring patients. A broken leg, a sprained wrist, and an infected paper cut (Cal had to do all he could not to scream). So when the paramedics arrived with Resus case, Cal couldn't run to the door fast enough. Luckily, everyone else who was working were caught up with other patients (apart from Lofty, who was helping Cal). He almost smiled... but then he caught sight of the young man on the bed and any excitement left him instantly.

"This is Owen Crimson, 36 years old. Trapped for around fifteen minutes after some scaffolding fell on him. He has some large gashes on his chest, legs, and face. He's been complaining of pain in his lower back but can feel his legs. Suspected neck and back injury - hence the collar. He has breathed in some dust, and his chest doesn't sound too good. He's had 10 of morphine, resps are 15, SATs are 95%, BP is 100/80." The paramedic stated as they pushed the trolley all the way to Resus. "Right, on my count. One, two, three."

Owen was moved to the Resus bed and Cal grimaced at the state of the young man.

"Oh, this is Aerona Crimson, 33. She's Owen's sister. She took a bump to the head after trying to rescue Owen." He said, before leaving Cal and Lofty in Resus.

"Right, okay. Lofty - would you mind getting another nurse, maybe Tash if she isn't busy, to see to Miss Crimson, please. I'll be by as soon as I've finished with Owen." Cal instructed.

"Shouldn't I get Lily or someone?"

"Er - no. I'll be fine. Just get Miss Crimson's injury cleaned up, please." Cal watched Lofty leave with her, before getting to work on Owen.

* * *

Cal whipped open the curtain, just in time to see Tash finish up cleaning Miss Crimson's wound. It didn't look too deep - Cal noted.

"Is Owen alright... please tell me he's alright." She begged, almost jumping off the bed.

"Thank you, Tash. I'll take it from here." Tash smiled and left the cubicle while Cal pulled on some disposable gloves. "So, are you feeling dizzy or sick, at all?"

"You didn't answer my question," she stated, looking angrily at Cal.

"You didn't answer mine," he opposed, a humorous glint in his eyes. Miss Crimson just stared at him. "Right, sorry. I can't tell you much - patient confidentiality - but-"

"-what? You can't be serious?! I have the right to know."

"I play by the rules," he stated, raising his eyebrows.

"So if you're brother or sister was involved in a potentially fatal accident, wouldn't you want to know what happened?" She too raised her eyebrows.

That hit home.

"Right, yeah, sorry. I - er -" he found he had a lump in his throat and he could feel his eyes stinging. If only she knew what actually happened a mere five days ago. "He just has a few bumps, bruises, and cuts. He's in CT right now, but I don't think there's any permanent damage."

"So why a CT?" She asked skeptically, obviously very concerned for her brother.

"Because I want to make sure I haven't missed anything," he replied, inspecting her head. "Now you can answer my question."

"No, I haven't been dizzy. No, I haven't been sick. It's just a cut - you should be looking after Owen, not me," she said sadly, looking away from Cal. "What happens if he's not okay? What happens if he's broken his back?" She asked seriously, eyes full of worry.

Cal took a seat on the bed beside her. "He hasn't lost any sensation in any part of his body, Miss Crimson. He should be alright and back home soon."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Cal's curiosity. "Do you live together then? I heard the scaffolding was at a house."

"Yeah, we live together. We were getting some work done on the house - we'd been meaning to for years. Then we finally go ahead, and look what happens," she joked lightheartedly. "Even from when we were younger, we planned to live together. We always wanted to be close, well - until one of us settles down with someone."

"That's really lovely," he said truthfully. If only he had been like that with Ethan. "So, I'm guessing neither of you have settled down with anyone yet? I don't want to intrude, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

"It's alright. No, not really. Owen was with someone for a while, he was really nice. But he cheated on him, so Owen broke up with him. He was heartbroken - he thought this guy was the one. And me? There was this one guy, but it didn't work out."

"Sorry to hear that," he said sympathetically.

"It's fine - I'd much rather be with Owen instead."

"Well, once he's discharged from here, probably in a few days, you and him can get on with your lives again, Miss Crimson."

"You know, you don't have to call me 'Miss Crimson'. It sounds so...  _posh_. Aerona is fine, or Aero."

"Like the chocolate," he noticed. "If it makes you feel better, you don't look anything like the chocolate. You're all dusty and dirty...  _Aeros_  are always immaculate." Cal commented. Aerona gave him a death glare before smiling, then Cal started laughing. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's no problem. No problem, at all. I'm just glad I like  _Aeros_. Imagine someone being named after a Knight, when they're nowhere near what a knight is," she smiled mischievously.

"Alright, fine. I deserved that one."


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I get up and pace the room, as if I can leave my guilt behind me. But it tracks me as I walk, an ugly shadow made by myself." - Rosamund Lupton, Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews, they always make me smile when I read them. This chapter was originally over 2,000 words long, but considering the content of the chapter and how long it was - while proof-reading it seemed to drag on. Therefore, I have split it into two shorter chapters, and the next one should be posted in a couple of days, I just need to finalise some things and check it a bit more. I hope you like this chapter!

_Saturday, 18 October 2014_

"Are you sure you're ready, Nibbles?" Cal asked seriously as he pulled up in the hospital car park. His brother had been oddly quiet the entire way to the hospital - and considering it was his first day back - Cal could only assume it was nerves. After all, Ethan hadn't stepped back into the ED after coming in as a _patient_  from an awful accident. Cal knew he would find it nerve-wracking.

"I'm ready, Cal," he reassured his brother, "I wouldn't come back if I wasn't ready."

Cal wanted to take his brother's word for it, but the tremor in Ethan's hands spoke volumes about what the younger man was feeling, "alright, but if you want to take a break or a breather, just tell me - alright?"

Ethan laughed, "I wish you'd stop worrying, Cal. It's been non-stop since I came home."

Cal felt a little ashamed, "yes, well... you're my brother. I have the right to be worried."

"Worried is  _one_  word for it, yes."

Cal pretended to look offended, "what would you call it then, dearest brother of mine?"

"Mollycoddling," he proposed.

"Mollycoddling?"

Ethan smirked, "yes. Mollycoddling," and he opened the car door, smiling at Cal again, before stepping out.

Cal rolled his eyes at his brother and stepped out too, taking in a deep breath and praying for everything to go alright for Ethan. He hadn't forgotten about being woken by whimpering and shouting nearly every night in the week leading up to Ethan returning to work. Not that Ethan knew about this, of course. Cal didn't want to...  _mollycoddle_  him.

"Ready?" Cal asked again.

"Yes, Cal," his brother laughed. "Let's go." Ethan stepped forward, but turned around after noticing Cal staying by the car. "Come on, then."

"Actually, I'm not coming in for a bit," Cal told Ethan, not missing the momentary look of fear that flickered on Ethan's face.

"Why?"

"I'm stopping by the ward Owen's on," said Cal.

"Owen?"

"Owen Crimson, remember? Guy from the scaffolding accident a couple of weeks ago?" Ethan nodded. "Well, he's getting discharged later today, and I thought I'd pop by one last time - give him my best wishes."

Ethan looked skeptical. "This is nothing to do with his sister, is it?" he sighed.

"I'm offended, Ethan. I just care for a patient." Ethan raised his eyebrows at Cal. "And if his sister is there, then I'll see how she's doing too. I did treat the both of them. Who's to say Aero won't visit her brother again. She's been there whenever I've been there."

"Or you've been there whenever she's been there," Ethan picked out, and Cal shook his head.

"I am merely concerned about the well-being of a man that I like. If his sister is there, then I will obviously check on her too. They were both injured."

Ethan groaned.

"I'm not going to debate this with you, Eth. Just go in there - start your shift. I'll be there soon," and without another word, Cal walked off - not giving a second glance to his brother.

Why would he when it seemed Ethan didn't like to be...  _mollycoddled_.

* * *

He was severely regretting returning to work as soon as he put one foot inside of the ED. As childish as it seemed, he retracted his foot almost instantly - wondering if he  _had_  to work. Maybe he could go back home and ring in sick? That didn't seem viable. He would have rung ages before his shift started as he usually did - it would seem suspicious if he suddenly rang  _during_  his shift. Anyway, he would have to get Cal to drive him back home. Getting back behind the wheel of a car didn't seem like an intelligent thing to do after last time, and he didn't trust anyone else  _but_  Cal to drive (so a taxi would be completely out of the question).

There was also the option of hiding away in the on-call room, but when Cal finished up on the ward, he would notice the absence of his brother. Even if Ethan stayed in the staffroom, Cal would find him and either convince him to go home (Cal driving him would mean getting Cal in trouble for going out on shift), or pursuading him to work.

Ethan didn't want Cal to worry, anyway. He'd done enough of that since Ethan returned home and wasn't being monitored by the nurses. As much as Ethan had warmed to the idea of having someone watch his back, Cal was a little too protective for his liking.

And now, a grown man was standing in a doorway, feet just outside to avoid stepping into his workplace, planning an escape route. He remembered doing that at school. He would linger just outside of the school gates, wondering if he could go somewhere else - or how he would escape in between lessons.

But this was work. This was how he lived. He relied on this money to survive.

He had to face up to it one day. He'd sat at home, dwelling on the day Ash died - figuring out what he could have done - how he could ever speak to anyone in the ED again - what he could say when he returned - how he could feel better about it all. Metaphorically speaking, he had a blank sheet of paper which was never filled up. He didn't know what to do, what to say, or how to say it.

"Right," he muttered to himself, placing one foot inside the doors (which weren't closing due to Ethan 'helpfully' standing in the way), "just one foot in front of the other." He placed another foot further inside, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. "One more step," he whispered, walking a little further in. "And another." This process continued until he was past the second set of doors. He didn't even get the chance to register the mass of people waiting to be seen, before he had an armful of Rita and Robyn. He awkwardly smiled and patted them on the back. He was never really one for hugs.

They let him go and he finally looked up, feeling his heartbeat pound in his ears as he saw Lofty, Max, Noel, and Charlie smile warmly at him. He didn't really know how to play this one. He smiled back, cheeks aching with the force of trying to  _mean_  the smile. Ethan closed his eyes momentarily and looked back up, saying a simple, "hello", before walking to the staffroom, hoping to avoid anything and anyone else.

There was one thing that was missing, though. On his way to the staffroom, he took note of the doctors and nurses on shift. There was one  _person_ missing.

Dr Martin Ashford.

 


	8. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is (technically) the second part of the previous chapter, but as I explained last chapter, I had to split it. Anyway, thank you again for those of you who reviewed! I hope you like this chapter too.

Cal didn't think he'd ever pursued a girl for this long before. They had either dumped him a lot earlier, or fallen for his wit, charm, and good looks. Never had he gone this long. He doubted she even felt the same way as him. As much as he liked Owen, he knew that he fancied Aero. Which was all kinds of wrong - professionally of course. Personally, there was no harm in liking someone. He'd kissed enough girls in his time, he'd had sex with the majority of them - he was pretty much a master of relationships. He was the kind of man who could get any willing girl into bed.

So why didn't Aero fit in anywhere?

He knew she liked him - who didn't? He had dashing good looks, a cheeky smile, muscles, charm, intelligence - and she was the beautiful girl. Long dark locks, pale white skin, smooth complexion, big brown doe eyes - what was not to love?

He wished he had all girls figured out - well, he could get half of Holby in bed. So why was Aerona Crimson so different from all the rest?

"Here," broke him out of his thoughts, as the girl he was thinking about handed him a coffee.

"Thanks. You didn't have to -"

" - I wanted to," she smiled. "You've been so kind to Owen and me since we arrived in the ED. We both appreciate it."

"It's my job," he dismissed, looking towards the sleeping (now snoring) Owen.

"I doubt it's your job to come up to see Owen every single day and stay with both of us."

"Yes, alright, that bit isn't part of my job." Cal watched Aero smile like she'd won. "In my defense, there are always certain patients I care about more than others. There are always some I would go the extra mile for."

Aerona looked at him disbelievingly, "oh yeah, name one... apart from us!" she challenged.

He was not expecting this. "... Kilihery Asder."

Aerona laughed, nearly choking on her drink. Cal stared at her for a moment before laughing too. "So how do you spell it?"

"No idea," he admitted, sipping on a bit of coffee. "But I honestly do go the extra mile for some patients. But only ones I really care about." He glanced towards Owen. "You'll both be home, in the same house, by tonight," he mentioned.

"It's going to feel strange. I've lived with him for ages, then I get the house to myself for a bit, but he'll be back." Cal smiled at her. "I mean, it'll be nice having my brother back. He makes a mean spag bol!"

"I get it, though I can't commend my brother's spag bol. It's vomit inducing," he laughed, watching Aero smile that sweet and innocent smile. "I can't say I've lived with my brother for long - we only moved in together very recently, but I've grown used to sharing space and food... and everything with him. It would be strange if I was there when he wasn't," Cal said - neglecting to mention that Ethan didn't necessarily want him to move in.

"How old's your brother?"

"30, he's only a couple of years younger than me."

"I've always wanted to know what it felt like to have a younger brother -"

" - you really don't!" Cal joked, making Aero giggle.

A look of dread suddenly washed over Cal's face as he quickly glanced at his watch. "Sh -"

" - what?" Aerona interrupted, saving him from loudly finishing his cursing.

"I wasn't meant to be up here for that long," he exclaimed. "I am dead when I get back downstairs." His eyes widened as he imagined sitting in Mrs Beauchamp's office. There weren't a lot of things that scared him, but her office with her in it was one of those things. "I'm sorry, I wish I could stay longer... " He grabbed a piece of scrunched up paper out of his jeans pocket and grabbed a nearby pen, and put his coffee down, scribbling something on the paper before handing it to Aero. "Look, this is my mobile number. If you or Owen need anything or something happens, don't hesitate to call me. Any time you want."

"Thank you, Caleb." She said genuinely. Cal nodded his head, took one last look at the sleeping Owen and the frankly beautiful Aero, before chugging his coffee and sprinting down to the ED.

* * *

Ethan watched Cal leave Mrs Beauchamp's office and walked slowly over to him, "how bad?" He asked.

"Not too bad. The usual."

Ethan nodded and the brothers fell into an uneasy silence, only being broken by Lily walking up to them.

"Ethan," she addressed, looking directly at Cal. Ethan really wished Cal would stay - who knows what Lily would say to him. She wasn't known for being particularly nice with her words. Ethan watched helplessly as Cal walked to the far side of the nurses' station, and not wanting to be rude and avoid Lily, he reluctantly listened to her. "I didn't get the chance to speak to you earlier, I was called away. Anyway, are you well?"

Ethan's brow creased, revealing lines in between his eyebrows. "I am perfectly well, thank you." Was she trying to assess his state of fitness to work?

"I am glad to hear it." She sounded sincere, but was she, really?

Ethan mentally chastised himself, he'd been doing this ever since the start of his shift. Trying to decipher whether anyone was watching for his mistakes or slip -ups or whenever something bad happened. It felt like they were, but Ethan knew they wouldn't. He worked with a nice bunch of people, so they wouldn't... would they?

Every time they spoke to him, he could almost feel their eyes burning into his soul and rooting out his secrets to use against him when they blame him for Ash's death... or when he has to go to court and even Cal could testify against him and he'd be imprisoned for life for murdering someone and he'd have no one and no one would ever believe him -

" - Ethan!" Cal shouted, snapping Ethan out of his haunting thoughts. Ethan jumped, gasping then swallowing back any remark. "You alright, you look a little pale," Cal asked, worry seeping into his tone. Lily was stood beside Ethan, rubbing his arm.

Ethan nodded hastily, darting off to the toilets to try and compose himself.

He really wished he had an escape route now.


	9. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?" - Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everyone's well. Casualty really are putting Ethan through the mill in these recent episodes, it's heart-shattering! Thank you for reviewing last chapter, and I hope you like this one.

_Monday, 20 October 2014_

Cal watched as Ethan walked slowly into the kitchen, dragging his feet as he went. His head was bowed, and he more slouched than sat in the chair. "You alright, Nibbles?" Cal asked, for once not using Ethan's nickname in jest.

Ethan mumbled something in reply, resting his head on his arms.

"Get that down you," Cal said, putting some toast in front of his brother. "Now, tell me that again. I didn't quite catch it."

Ethan lifted his head weakly. "I  _said_  I'm tired." Then he pushed away the toast and put his head back on his arms.

Cal sighed. He knew his brother hadn't been sleeping well, especially since going back to work. "That's what you get for showering at two in the morning," he joked, but Ethan didn't find it funny. "Maybe you went back to work too soon. You can take another week off, if you want," Cal suggested kindly, pushing the toast back to his brother and checking his phone.

Ethan lifted his head, "I'm f -"

"- don't you dare say 'fine'," he joked, still staring at his phone.

"I am... good. Brilliant. I don't need to stay off of work. I have been fine." Cal looked at him pointedly. "I have been good," Ethan said. "What is it with you and your phone, anyway?"

Cal placed it down on the table. "I gave my number to Aerona. I was hoping there was a text or a missed call or  _something_ ," he admitted.

This time it was Ethan's turn to sigh. "Caleb. You don't seriously think she will message you?"

Cal was offended. "Why not? What's wrong with  _me_?"

"She was a patient, Cal. So was her brother. You treated both of them, and now they are out of your way," his little brother told him, and Cal felt a surge of anger boil within him.

"Then why did she accept my number? Why did they even allow me to visit them?" Ethan stayed silent. "Exactly. Now, eat."

Ethan looked down at the toast, and Cal could have sworn he saw his face drop a little. He watched as Ethan picked it up and look at it like it was something alien. Then he bit some from the corner and ate it.

"You're nibbling, Nibbles." Cal said with a smirk, laughing slightly and silently when Ethan looked up annoyed. Cal checked his phone again, really disappointed when there was  _still_ nothing. Was this what it felt like to be one of Cal's one-night-stands?

"Cal, can I ask you something?" Ethan said seriously, and Cal looked up warily. He nodded and waited patiently; confused to why Ethan seemed so earnest.

"Do you ever feel guilty about stuff? Anything?"

That wasn't something Cal was willing to admit, but this was his little brother who was looking at him with pleading eyes. "Sometimes. Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know how... how you  _stop_ feeling guilty?" he asked hesitantly, looking down at his barely touched toast.

"No idea, Ethan." He picked up his phone again, thinking he heard it vibrate. Lo and behold, he was imagining it. Cal almost threw it down on the table and ran his hands through his hair. If someone was interested, they'd have messaged or called by now. Looks like Aero was a lost cause.

"Can't you think of something?" Ethan persisted, seemingly oblivious to Cal's feelings.

Cal sighed, still thinking about how he could get in contact with Aerona. Maybe he could look at her hospital notes and find her number. "What's this about, Ethan?"

He hesitated, looking anywhere but Cal, "nothing."

Cal shook his head, still thinking about the girl he had fallen for. "Then stop bugging me. I'm busy." Then he stood up and walked over to the sink, chugging a glass of water and wondering if Aero was  _really_ a lost cause.

Ethan stood up and walked next to him. Cal really hoped he wouldn't ask about guilt again. He didn't have all the answers. "We're going to be late for work," Ethan stated plainly.

"You haven't eaten," Cal pointed out, turning around and gesturing to the toast.

"I'm not that hungry, Caleb. Can we just go?"

Cal hated his brother's need to be on time, no one would really mind if they were a  _few_ minutes late. Cal still had to have a shower; he wasn't like Ethan. He didn't have one at 2am that morning (and why would he when normal people sleep at that time?).

"We'll go in 15 minutes. We won't be late, I promise." Cal said frustratingly. He didn't think it was possible, but Ethan's questions and persistence were starting to annoy him.

"Cal, I can't be late. I've only been back at work two days! How would it look if I were late?"

"Then get in the car and drive yourself. Be a man," he snapped back, immediately regretting it when he saw tears build up in Ethan's eyes, almost hidden behind his glasses. "Oh God. I didn't mean it, Eth. I'm just distracted."

"No... no, it's fine," Ethan breathed. "I get it. I'll walk. See you there." He said, looking down and making his way out of the kitchen.

"Ethan, it's okay. We can go now!" Cal called, but there was no answer. A few seconds later, the door shut.

* * *

Ethan was hurt by Cal; though he didn't want admit it. He thought he would always be able to count on his brother, but Cal was right. He had to be a man. That meant he had to stand on his own two feet. He could never tell Cal about how he was feeling. He would only laugh and tell Ethan to man up.

So, when Cal walked into the staffroom while he was in there, he had to act as normal as possible.

Cal took a seat next to him. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier -"

"- don't worry, Cal. It's forgotten." Ethan said, standing up. Cal stood with him.

"Yes, well... why  _did_ you ask me about guilt earlier? Is there something you want to tell me?" Cal placed his hands on Ethan's shoulders and bent down to his level. "I will help if I can."

"It's nothing. I am... I'm doing a paper on guilt and the effects it can have on everyday life," Ethan lied, mentally crossing his fingers in hope that Cal believed him. He nodded and withdrew his hands, standing up to full height.

"If you say so."

"Yes. I do. And now I must work." Ethan said, walking swiftly out.

* * *

"I trust the more observant amongst you have noticed that our very own Dr Hanna has returned," Connie announced to the staff who had gathered around the nurses' station. "So, I hope you'll all join me in welcoming her back."

Connie stepped aside, and Zoe stepped forward. She was smiling, and Ethan wished he could smile, despite all that was swimming around in his head. "I would just like to say, it's really great to be back among friends." Then her face dropped and her voice turned serious. "I can't imagine what it's been like for you all. It must be so hard; it must still be so hard for you all." Ethan gulped. She could never imagine what it felt like to feel as guilty as he did. "I'm sorry about what happened to you all, especially Ash... just, it's good to be back with you all," she finished, and everyone departed quietly.

Everyone except Ethan. He just stood there, thinking about how this was just another person who missed Ash. Another person to look at Ethan and be reminded that  _he_ was the driver. That  _he_ was the one that crashed.

He felt someone shake his arm. "Ethan, did you listen to anything I just said?" Cal asked seriously, standing in front of him.

"I don't think I  _want_  to listen to you," he bit back, walking off. He couldn't forgive Cal that easily. What he said hit a nerve, especially because he  _couldn't_   _help_ being terrified of driving. He was just weak, and his own brother thought he was too.


	10. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't get high, but sometimes I wish I did. That way, when I messed up in life I would have an excuse. But right now there's no rehab for stupidity." - Chris Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I really am sorry for the long delays between chapters. I wanted to finish most of my stories so I could focus on only a couple. Finally there is only this story left to complete, and now I can start posting the sequel to By Your Bedside. Updates will be as regular as I can make with this now. I would just like to thank everyone who continues to leave reviews. They really are sweet and I love knowing whether or not you like it, so thank you.
> 
> I am also going to be absent for around a week as I am going away tomorrow (Monday). No internet so no fanfiction. I promise to start to update more regularly and start to post the sequel to By Your Bedside once I return. See you all soon!
> 
> Anyway, onto the next chapter (and I already feel bad about what I'm doing to poor Ethan!) and see you next week!

_Tuesday, 21 October 2014_

Ethan felt horrible. He hadn't talked to Cal since yesterday and he wasn't planning to. If he was to talk to Cal again, he needed to prove he wasn't weak. He needed to prove he could drive. But it was harder than he anticipated.

As soon as he got into the car, he rushed straight out. His hands were shaking and he couldn't get the key into the ignition. Cal had come out a few moments later, giving Ethan a concerned look. Ethan didn't respond. He grabbed his briefcase from the car and started walking. He didn't stop until he reached the hospital.

But as soon as he saw an ambulance pull up, he was reminded of the crash. It happened every time. Every ambulance that pulled up, every patient displaying similar symproms to himself or Ash (what he could remember of Ash's condition, anyway), every death... it all made him remember.

He reminded himself that the patients had been no different to the patients before the crash, only this time he knew what it was like.

It wasn't that he hadn't been a patient in the past, but this time was different. This time he was in a critical condition that he brought upon himself. This time he killed someone else. And the world seemed to remind him using every chance it got.

He had little sleep last night; tossing and turning and getting tangled up in his sheets. He had a lot of nightmares about the crash, and they didn't allow him much sleep. In the end, he'd opted for sitting on the sofa to get away from the sleep environment, and watching Cal's 'Friends' boxset. He didn't like it, but it did the desired effect and kept him awake.

He also had little appetite, meaning he hadn't eaten much since the crash. Of course, Ethan recognised that food was necessary for survival. That didn't mean he had to eat a lot. He didn't eat three meals a day, and when he did eat he ate a portion a child would eat.

"Dr Hardy, you're needed in resus."

Ethan sighed. He'd been avoiding resus since he came back to work, and especially today as there had been a huge bus crash. But Mrs Beauchamp had said he had to go. He didn't want to go into resus, but he didn't want to lose his job. So into resus he went.

* * *

Cal curled his hands into balls then uncurled them. He'd repeated this action many times, trying to figure out how to get through to his brother. Despite severely regretting what he'd said to Ethan, he hadn't made a move to go up to him and apoligise after yesterday. He knew he would be brushed off.

But that didn't stop his worry.

He'd heard the television last night, and it went on practically the whole night. Ethan skipped breakfast and walked to work again. Cal knew Ethan wouldn't feel however he was feeling forever, but his duty was to protect his little brother.

Until Ethan let him in, all he could do was watch.

Cal's phone started to ring. He grabbed it from his pocket and answered it. "Hello? Caleb Knight speaking."

There was a high-pitched giggle on the other end of the phone. "I know. I wouldn't have rung your mobile if I didn't want it to be you," the girl's voice said.

"Sorry, who is this?"

"Yeah, sorry. I probably should have said. It's Aero."

Cal smiled broadly, forgetting how to speak for a moment or two. "You sound different on the phone."

"How observed of you, Caleb," she said, and Cal noted her light-hearted tone.

"So, how are you?" he asked casually. All thoughts of Ethan forgotten and heart hammering dangerously (...probably) fast inside his chest.

"Good, thanks. You?"

"I'm good, I'm cool. No, wait, I don't mean that. I'm just good."

Aero chuckled. She stopped and said no more, and Cal could hear faint shouting on the line. "Sorry, Cal. I'm going to have to go - Owen needs me."

"Is he okay?" Cal asked, worried for her brother.

"Yeah, yeah. He's fine. He just needs my help. I'll ring you back. Bye!"

"Oh, okay..." She hung up. "Bye," he whispered to himself.

"Dr Knight, may I remind you that you don't get paid to stand around in a corridor on your phone. Resus. Now."

Cal slipped his phone back into his pocket sadly and followed Connie's instruction.

* * *

No. This couldn't be happening. His patient was deteriorating fast and Ethan didn't know why. He'd been for a CT and Ethan had checked it multiple times, blood was sent off but it was yet to come back and Ethan had carried out many checks.

He was acutely aware that Cal was in the process of sending a patient off to ITU, and Ethan couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. Cal could do his job, and he didn't need to prove anything. But Ethan needed to prove everything, and he couldn't do it.

"Intubation?" Lofty asked, glancing at the monitors.

"Yeah," Ethan breathed. He could feel his hands trembling and knew he couldn't let anyone see. But he had to intubate his patient which meant trying to control everything he was feeling. He was a doctor, and now was the time to be a doctor and forget everything else.

* * *

Cal stayed back in resus after sending his patient up to ITU. It wasn't something usually done, but Cal felt he needed to. Ethan's patient wasn't looking good and it was clear to everyone that Ethan was panicking.

He watched as Ethan grabbed the necessary equipment, not missing the shake in his hands. As soon as he neared the patient's mouth, the shake increased to a trembling and Cal could see it was taking Ethan everything to stop it turning into full-body trembling.

He couldn't work like that. As much as it hurt him, Cal knew he had to take over.

He walked up to him, and Lofty looked more than relieved.

"Ethan?" he said quietly, and it still made Ethan jump. He looked towards Cal, panic swimming in his eyes. "Ethan, let me take over. You can't do this." Anger came into Ethan's eyes and Cal immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing.

Ethan slammed the instruments down and stormed out.

* * *

"He's stable," Cal informed him as he walked into the staffroom.

Ethan managed to absorb the news, bur his anger towards Cal ovetook the relief. "How dare you do that to me!"

"Ethan, you were shaking. You were panicking. I had to take over."

"I was perfectly capable of doing my job, Caleb," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, Ethan. But you weren't." Cal looked at the hurt that flashed on Ethan's face, but didn't regret what he said. It was the truth. "I had to take over."

"You embarrassed me in front of our colleagues! Why couldn't you just leave me to do -"

Cal's phone started to ring. Ethan stared at Cal as he took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it.

"Our conversation is over, Caleb. You might as well answer it. You don't seem to be hanging up anytime soon," Ethan said. He brushed passed Cal and walked out of the staffroom, not missing Cal greeting Aero on the phone.

It just made Ethan feel alone.


	11. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The key is not to prioritise what's on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities." - Stephen Covey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time skip in this chapter. I have no personal experience with dating and I wrote a few versions of this chapter, before deleting it and deciding to skip that part because it felt so odd. I hope it isn't disappointing. Thank you for your lovely reviews on the previews chapter, I really appreciate them!

_Wednesday, 22 October 2014_

"I'm off now, Ethan!" Cal called through the flat, hoping to receive an answer from the practically mute Ethan. He wasn't hopeful. Ethan had barely spoken a word to him, unless in a professional manner. Even then the sentences were cut short wherever possible. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

Cal waited patiently for a few seconds.

"Just go, will you?" Ethan shouted back, clearly frustrated.

Cal sighed to himself. "Bye, then," he muttered, consciously knowing that it was far too quiet for Ethan to hear.

He made his way out the door, checking his pockets after momentarily forgetting if his keys were in his possession, breathed a sigh of relief after he felt them and then shut the door. He would not have liked to relied on Ethan to open the door to him. He doubted very much that Ethan would even open the door.

He knew he hadn't behaved sensibly or sensitively towards Ethan recently, but he had a habit of speaking or doing before thinking. Ethan knew that, of course, but Cal had a feeling that the crash had made Ethan more vulnerable than normal and, coupled with the face he's put up with Cal for most of his life, he's probably had just about as much as he can take. It would usually (in the past) not take that long for Ethan to forgive him. But it's been one thing after another recently.

He made his way to the car, checking his watch just to make sure he wasn't going to be late. He had already calculated how long it took to get to the restaurant, and then added ten minutes for possible traffic and half an hour extra. Just in case. He wanted this to go well,  _needed_  this to go well. He liked Aero, and having a relationship seemed a lot more appealing than one night stands now. There was also the more selfish side of him having a reason. He tried to push it down, because thinking it was completely wrong... but if he spent time with Aero, and at work, it meant less time spent with Ethan. Not that he didn't want to spend time with Ethan, but the way he'd been recently meant Cal just needed an excuse - a break - from the flat. Aero gave him that opportunity, and he liked her. Best of both worlds.

* * *

Cal hadn't stopped smiling. Not since he'd left Aero's house, anyway. He kept replaying the date in his head, wondering how it went so well. Aero had not only said he was responsible (he only had half a pint of beer because he was driving), but she also said he was caring (he drove her home), funny (he knew Aero was the first ever girl to actually laugh at all of his jokes, even if he suspected it was sometimes fake to make him feel better), cheeky,  _and_  she'd asked him out again.

He felt like a love-struck teenager, and he wasn't overly surprised that Aero laughed at his tie and then re-did it. He had fond memories of never being able to do a tie properly. Ethan usually did it for him. When he finally managed to learn how to, he was overjoyed. He must have been too excited while getting dressed to do it properly this time.

They had a few discussions that Cal didn't expect to have on this date. Owen cropped up a lot (naturally, Cal was wondering how he was doing), and so did morals.

And the way Aero spoke and articulated her points and the way she just  _looked_  at the world made Cal's heart flutter. It was such an amazing feeling, and he'd never fully appreciated it before. He'd had girlfriends before, of course, in his teenage years. Since then he didn't see the point - chances were he'd get let down sooner or later. Except now he'd braved the field again, he knew that he was stupid not to do it before.

Cal was also aware that Aero was sensible, kind, loving and just fantastic. He knew he needed to take things slowly, so when he dropped her off home, he kissed her on the cheek then walked back to his car. For once, he was satisfied with just that, and Aero seemed to respect him more.

He thought about how great it would be to tell Ethan all of this, to show him how much he's changed. To show him that he cared about someone and was willing to go slowly. Then reality kicked in and he was aware of what he was going home to. An angry brother who could barely stand to breathe the same air as him.

Cal pulled in slowly (remembering how Aero commented on his great parking skills) and got out the car, closing his eyes for a moment and just enjoying the feeling of happiness currently flowing through his veins and into his heart.

Then he made his way to the door, trying to think of what to say to Ethan. He'd been out of the flat and maybe it had given Ethan thinking time without Cal trying to get him to speak every minute of the day. He grimly thought there was no point in hoping. Ethan was angry with him and there was good reason for it.

* * *

Ethan heard the key in the lock and sighed to himself. He enjoyed having the flat to himself, it gave him time to think without Caleb crashing around and making noise. When he was angry with Cal, whatever he did seemed to get on his nerves - even if Cal accidentally slammed a cupboard or a drawer shut. It was irrational, but also very annoying.

He couldn't hear a female voice, which meant Aero was being incredibly quiet compared to Cal or Cal hadn't brought her home. That would mean the date was a disaster.

"I'm home!"

Ethan bit back his 'I know' response. He didn't want to talk to Cal. At least it meant Aero wasn't with him. Cal would never announce his presence if he was with a girl: he preferred to sneak around.

"Ethan?"

_I'm not talking._

"You sleeping, buddy?"

_Don't call me 'buddy'._

"Do you want me to get you a drink?"

_Stop talking!_

"Or something to eat?"

"Just be quiet, will you?" Ethan shouted after having enough of Cal's constant talking. He listened for Cal to say something, to complain or to shout, but it was quiet. He almost wanted Cal to argue back, or to barge into his room and tell him how the date was a disaster, or even how brilliant it was. He wanted physical interaction to latch onto but he also wanted to be alone, especially away from Cal.

Ethan decided to lie down in his bed, not caring he was still fully clothed or that he hadn't eaten dinner. He shut his eyes and hoped he would get a peaceful sleep without the constant nightmares or insomnia. Working was very difficult with little sleep, especially in a busy emergency department.

But hoping was hard and came with little relief, and soon he woke with beads of sweat on his face after reliving the crash, and not for the first time.


	12. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just want not to be me." - Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

_Thursday, 23 October 2014_

Ethan blinked, feeling a tear roll sideways down his face. He hadn't had much sleep and the horrible feeling of guilt still rested at the pit of his stomach - made worse by the nightmares. He threw his head backwards onto his pillow and shut his eyes tightly, feeling another tear roll down his face. He had work in an hour, but he turned his alarm off half an hour ago and made no move to get out of bed. He didn't have the energy to get out of bed and he certainly didn't have the energy to go to work.

He heard Cal bashing around in the kitchen and wished he'd go to work. Then it would be clear for him to get out of his room and eat, even though the thought of food made him feel nauseous. Seeing Cal was one of the things he needed to avoid, not only because Cal would try and make conversation, but because he'd either act normal or they'd have an argument.

He heard a knock on the door and before he had a chance to shout at Cal, the door opened.

"You should be getting ready for work," Cal said as he smiled. "It's usually you dragging me out of bed, not the other way around." He laughed and walked up to Ethan. "Come on, Nibbles."

Ethan pulled the cover over his head and turned his back on Cal, desperately hoping he hadn't seen any tears Ethan had shed.

The cover was pulled back instantly and Ethan curled himself into a tight ball. "I'm not speaking to you."

"You just did, Nibbles. Come on, what's up with you?"

Ethan decided not to answer.

"Are you still angry at me? All I did was take over from you in resus. It's not that big of a deal, is it? You've had to do it to me before."

Ethan sat up in anger, getting off the other side of the bed and looking at Cal with fury. "As it happens, Caleb, I haven't!"

Cal looked almost pleading. "Ethan, I was doing what I thought was best for the patient -"

"I was capable of treating them!"

"But you weren't, Ethan. Please, please listen to me. You would have done to same for any other doctor. If you saw them performing a tricky procedure but their hands were shaking, you would do the same as I did."

Ethan felt more anger bubbling inside of him because Cal was right. "That is beside the point! You undermined me!"

"What is wrong with you?" Cal shouted, then he drew in a deep breath and seemed to compose himself. "What's this really about, Ethan?"

Ethan dashed his hand across his eyes and felt ashamed of feeling tears in his eyes. "Nothing!"

Cal made to walk around the bed but seemed to think better of it. "I'm not stupid, Ethan. I'm your brother, your older brother. I know when something's wrong. You're in the same clothes as yesterday for a start and… your eyes are all red, Ethan. Like… like you've been crying."

"Yes, you're the thing that's wrong! You trying to help or… or… or telling me to 'man up' when you're too busy chasing girls!"

"Hey, that's not fair! I was… distracted, okay? And you kept pestering me. And I really was trying to help you!"

Ethan raised his eyebrows but Cal either hadn't noticed or ignored it.

"And as for chasing girls… Aero's… Aero is special."

Ethan tried not to feel jealous. It sounded like Cal was happy. "Yeah, right."

"Yes, right! She an amazing person and I'm glad she's in my life right now. Which is more than can be said for my brother!" he shouted.

Ethan took a step back as if he'd been physically hit.

"Oh God, Ethan. No, no I didn't mean that. I just said it… heat of the moment thing, you know."

Ethan wasn't listening. He sunk to the floor on his knees and stared at the bed, barely feeling the tears falling down his face. It hurt him so much and he knew Cal was right.

Ethan didn't even know how to feel or what he was even feeling. He tried to make a list but it was muddled in his head. He knew he was feeling guilty, that feeling lingered in his stomach and weighed down his heart. But he felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness that filled his entire body, seeping into his bloodstream and clouding his brain.

Hopelessness because he knew Ash's death was his fault. Hopelessness because he'd been too weak to get behind a steering wheel - let alone drive. Hopelessness because he can't step foot in resus or look at an ambulance or critical patient without panicking. Hopelessness because his brother had to take over from him. Hopelessness because Cal seemed to have Aero and he didn't have Cal. Hopelessness because he knew if it worked out with Aero then he would lose Cal. Hopelessness because he couldn't eat and he couldn't sleep and he just didn't care about himself enough to do anything about it. Hopelessness because he was pushing his brother away but he didn't want to. Hopelessness because his brother doesn't want him in his life…

Hopelessness because he was hopeless.

* * *

Cal watched as Ethan sunk to his knees, tears rolling down his face. He hadn't expected Ethan to react the way he did. He'd expected shouting or pushing or screaming. But the look on Ethan's face was more like… he looked lost. He looked like the last bit of hope had been ripped from his body.

The last bit of hope was Cal.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He'd pushed Ethan away when something was obviously deeply affecting him. He'd lain awake in bed last night, wondering what was happening with his brother. He wasn't eating much, he'd already noticed that. But he looked as though he was coping in work, well until Cal had to take over. But to see Ethan curled up in bed, still in his shirt and trousers with red and tired eyes, not even bothering to get up for work… something was definitely wrong.

And Cal, even though he knew his behaviour was a contributing factor, knew that this wasn't all him. He'd done much worse in the past and Ethan hadn't reacted like this.

Cal stood for a moment, gazing at his brother. He wanted to help, he needed to help, but he didn't know how.

He left Ethan's bedroom hoping that Ethan would feel better by the evening. He couldn't see him going into work, after all. And for once, he didn't mind covering for his brother. Maybe spending the day at home would help Ethan clear his head, and he could go back into work tomorrow and deal with patients successfully.

Cal's phone started to ring and he picked it up almost instantly. "Aero!" he said cheerfully.

They started talking, and with Aero being the welcome distraction he needed, he soon forgot all about his brother sitting and crying in his room.


	13. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've learned to get really good at this — say one thing when I'm thinking about something else, act like I'm listening when I'm not, pretend to be calm and happy when I'm really freaking out. It's one of the skills you perfect as you get older." — Lauren Oliver, Delirium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I've finally got around to presenting you with another update! You know that feeling when words just don't flow? Yeah, that happened. Oh well, it's passed for the time being! And thank you for reviewing last chapter. I can't tell you how much confidence it gives me. Also, the quote last chapter is from a really amazing book 'It's a Kind of Funny Story'. If you like books that explore mental health, I would highly recommend it — be aware of strong language though. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Ethan stood slowly, unsure of how long he'd been knelt there. All he knew was his knees hurt and Cal had gone to work. He didn't want think about their conversation, and he didn't want to think about anything else. He hated the nightmares and he hated the insomnia and he just hated how he felt all the time. He needed to take his mind off things but no matter what he did, he couldn't stop  _thinking_. Not even sleep gave him the escape he so desperately craved.

There was still that biting feeling of anger towards Cal. He had no right to undermine him and he had no right telling him to man-up. But he seemed genuinely sorry and it made Ethan confused.

Maybe, if he acted like nothing was wrong (tough as that was) then he and Cal could get back to normal. Maybe he could start to feel normal. Maybe… just maybe… he could start to forget about Ash. It would be a long shot, but if he feigned normality for long enough, maybe there was a chance to hope that normality would come around.

He realised quite quickly that normality meant doing things his tired body did not want to do, and quickly gave up on the idea. Gave up for the time being, anyway. He could do it later.

He crawled back into bed, realising that he was still in yesterday's clothes and he hadn't showered in a couple of days. He just sighed to himself and pulled the cover right up to his chin. He could shower later. Food didn't seem very appealing either, so he vowed to have some toast later on — forgetting he hadn't eaten since yesterday.

He turned onto his side and looked at the floor, remembering his pyjamas still lay there. He pondered whether to change into them for a few seconds, and gathering his last scraps of energy, rolled out of bed and changed his clothes. That was a step towards normality at least.

Then he fell back into the comfortable bed and closed his eyes, praying that sleep came quickly and was free of nightmares.

* * *

Cal jumped and turned around suddenly when he heard his name being called.

"Sorry if I startled you…" Lofty said, holding his hands awkwardly in front of him.

Cal shrugged, "you didn't, don't worry." He decided not to let on how fast his heart was beating from Lofty's sudden entrance.

The nurse looked unsure but he continued anyway. "Laura Richardson is asking for you."

Cal rubbed his tired hands over his tired face. "Who?"

"You're patient. Fractured collarbone. Remember?"

Cal closed his eyes briefly and the name clicked, feeling stupid for ever forgetting the patient that wouldn't stop flirting with him. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a second." He was expecting Lofty to walk away, but instead he was stood there, looking like he wanted to say something. "Anything else, Lofty?" Cal prompted, feeling so drained he wasn't sure whether he'd be able to continue the conversation for much longer.

"Yeah, erm, you okay? You seem tired and… distant," he stated, grimacing at his own words.

"I'm fine," sighed Cal.

"Okay, good. Yeah. Great. And Ethan?"

Cal straightened up, "Ethan?"

"I noticed he isn't on shift today and he's meant to be."

"Oh, right. Yeah, he isn't feeling well. Probably working too hard too soon or something," he said, smiling like nothing was wrong. "I wouldn't put it past him — this is Ethan we're talking about."

Lofty hesitated then nodded. "Oh, and before I forget — are you going to be able to come tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Cal asked, confused.

Lofty's eyebrows knitted together. "Ash's birthday? We're all heading to the pub after our shifts in his memory. Don't tell me you've forgotten that too!"

"No, no," Cal said defensively. "I wasn't told."

"Oh." Lofty smiled awkwardly. "You coming, then?"

Cal didn't even have to think about it. "Yeah. It's for Ash, so of course."

"Can you let Ethan know?"

"Sure," Cal said, even though he didn't think he and Ethan would be on speaking terms.

"Cool. Now — Laura?" Lofty asked.

Cal nodded before his friend walked away. The doctor rubbed a hand through his hair, and while wishing for his shift to be over, he walked slowly to Laura.

* * *

Cal was glad when he finally got into his car. It was a tough shift to say the least. He knew it would be even tougher going home and wished he could talk to Aero — but she had told him that morning, while they were on the phone, that she would be out in the evening with Owen so they wouldn't be able to talk. He'd obviously been disappointed but, strangely enough, hadn't begged her to talk to him or rushed to her house or anything. He accepted it and knew that their next phone call would be twice as good as the last one.

Aero was extremely special, he realised. If he was to lose her anytime soon he knew he'd be heartbroken.

He started to drive home, wondering what state he'd find his brother in. He hoped that Ethan would at least have changed his clothes and brushed his hair. Some illusion that he was looking after himself at least. Of course, he'd been in a serious car accident recently and Cal could hardly expect him to act normally. But this was Ethan and Cal expected something from his brother by now.

* * *

Cal slouched down onto the sofa, sighing as he didn't hear any movement from Ethan. His moving-in arrangements in the flat were only temporary (though he secretly wanted it to be permanent), but an unwanted thought crossed his mind and he was considering it more by the second.

If he and Ethan couldn't find any common ground, Cal could easily move out. He didn't want to be stuck in a house with Ethan if Ethan was constantly against him. He had tried getting through to him, tried acting normal, but Ethan just threw it back in his face.

There was still that little voice in the back of Cal's head telling him that Ethan was obviously upset by something if his behaviour that morning was anything to go by. Something that Ethan couldn't talk about. That didn't stop him being angry with his brother. He knew from past experience that he should be patient. He should wait until Ethan was ready to talk and explain what's bothering him.

But Cal isn't patient, and they are both grown-ups now. If Cal wanted to move out, he could easily move out. He would always be Ethan's brother, and if he wanted to talk then he could pick up the phone or talk at work. He didn't have to live in an environment that was affecting his own mood. And anyway, he was certain Ethan would wave goodbye as soon as he could. He hadn't even wanted Cal to move in originally.

* * *

"What?" gasped Ethan, wringing his hands underneath his bed cover. He was sat against the headboard when Caleb marched into his room and announced he was moving out.

Cal smiled, "I thought you'd be pleased. Anything to see the back of me, right?"

Ethan tried not to feel upset. He wanted to make it up to his brother and try to carry on as usual, as if nothing was wrong. He wanted to fake it until he started to believe everything was alright himself. He wanted Cal to be there whenever he needed him, as someone to talk to or someone to distract him when he started to think too hard about things.

"So, when do you go?" Ethan asked, hoping Cal wouldn't detect the shake in his voice.

"Tomorrow. I'm going to crash on Max's sofa until I can get a flat somewhere."

Ethan tried not to feel hurt that Cal would rather be somewhere with three other people, sleeping on a sofa, than in Ethan's flat where he gets a bed and shares the flat with his  _brother_. "You could be there for a while."

"He's cool with it. I rang him before I came in here. I would've thought you'd heard."

He did hear, but he'd assumed it was Aero on the phone and consequently set about trying to not listen to Cal being happy while he had just woken up in tears from another nightmare. "You could injure your back."

"It's not like I've never slept on a sofa before!" he laughed. "If I wasn't mistaken, it sounds like you want me to stay!"

 _I do. More than anything._  "I'll be glad to get the flat to myself, actually. No more hearing your snoring through the walls," he said, trying to joke around instead of crying.

Cal smiled cheekily.

There were a few moments of silence. "I, um, apologise for my behavior towards you, Caleb," he stated out-of-nowhere.

Cal looked surprised for a mere second or two, before masking it with a nod and smile. "It's me who should be apologising. I haven't behaved fairly towards you, so I'm sorry. And that is the only time you'll hear me say that so don't get used to it." He grinned.

Ethan smiled a bit, but it made his cheeks ache. It was painful to pretend to be happy. And now, because he and Cal had apologised to each other, Cal could stay. After all, they could talk together and go to work together and do things together and be proper brothers again. "About you moving out…."

_Please stay, Caleb. You're all I've got._

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll be out of your — frankly very messy — hair by tomorrow."

Ethan felt his heart sink to his stomach.

"Max is going to help me move a few bits and bobs after Ash's birthday do. Which reminds me: some of us are having a few drinks tomorrow in memory of Ash. It's his birthday so it's a good time to do it."

His heart shattered right there and then, into a thousand pieces. Never to be fixed again. A good man died because of him and now his colleagues were celebrating his life on his birthday… and they invited the man who killed him. "I'll think about it."

"Come on, Eth. It's only after work so you can head straight to the pub after shift. That is if you're going into work — which I assume you are?"

Normality. He needed to create normality no matter how much it hurt.

"Of course I am. Today was just a… recuperation day."

Cal smiled. "Good. And Ash's birthday thing?"

Ethan could feel himself shake in apprehension. "Yes. I'll be there."

"Great!" Cal clapped his hands together. "Okay, well it's good that's all sorted. Now, dinner. What do you want?"

He felt sick. "I've already had some, thanks," Ethan lied.

"Oh. Okay. Well, night then. I'll see you tomorrow morning — bright and early for the day ahead — eh, Ethan! Last night in the same flat together, too."

_As if I'll not stop thinking about that all night…_

"Indeed, Caleb. Goodnight."

He watched sadly as Cal walked out and shut the door. Ethan practically slid underneath his covers. He buried his head in his pillow to muffle his sobs as he broke down.

His brother was moving out — abandoning him. He really wasn't imagining it. He was going to be completely and utterly alone. Caleb would rather sleep on someone else's sofa then be in the same building as Ethan. Not even his own brother wanted him anymore.


	14. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake?" ― Justin Alcala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reviewing ― I really do appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter and I really hope it's not too… cliché. I wouldn't normally do this type of thing but I had a burst of inspiration and I hope I can pull it off. Also sorry if the chapters ever seem messed up or confusing. It's kind of meant to be how everything with Ethan is slowly messing up and everything he thinks is just getting muddled and stuff. I didn't convey that very well though. One more thing, I apoligise if you don't like chapters where not much happens. This is more of a thought chapter than an action chapter. It should pick up in the next chapter. Anyway, on with this!

_Friday, 24 October 2014_

Cal was bashing around in the kitchen. A pan slammed onto the kitchen counter and a crash sounded as it hit the floor. He started laughing to himself, loud enough for it to carry through to Ethan's room. The extractor fan above the hob started whirring, signalling it turning on. The kettle started to boil, the sound almost drowned out by the extractor fan.

Ethan listened intently. Staring up at the ceiling as he lay on his back, he just listened. Every little sound, every little laugh or sigh or grunt. Every little noise. Even the small ones. Feet scraping along the floor, doors clicking shut, handles creaking as they were pushed down, the door bashing against the wall, water running from the tap, plates crashing against each other as Caleb put them away from the drainer, the washing machine starting and even the chair scraping across the floor as he sat down and tucked in to his dinner.

He would miss this. He wanted to take it all in and remember it all. Remember he wasn't alone. There was someone there, always there with him. His brother. His stupid, selfish… brilliant older brother.

_Not after tomorrow._

He continued to listen and he had to listen. It gave him sanity and peace. It meant he wasn't sleeping. If he slept, he'd only be woken by nightmares — reliving awful things in the most awful ways. If he slept, time would seem to move faster, therefore bringing tomorrow forward faster. It would mean Caleb would move out sooner. If he slept, Ash's birthday would come sooner, bringing a barrel of memories along with it. There would be photographs in the pub, drinks dedicated to Ash. His colleagues smiling and laughing and talking about Ash in the presence of the man who killed him.

He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't.

_I can't. I won't. That's final._

* * *

Ethan rolled out of bed. He felt fully refreshed, not like he'd done in days. He smiled to himself and relished in the new found joy he felt. It was a good day and he knew it. Nothing could spoil i―

A scream sounded from outside. Ethan fumbled with the window lock and eventually he opened the window, sticking his head out and peering around.

His blood ran cold.

It took only a couple of seconds to reach the ground floor and run outside. He wasn't even out-of-breath, but that didn't matter.

Caleb was lying on the ground, surrounded by blood. His own blood. There was too much, way too much. A van had stopped just before Cal's body, splattered in blood. There was no driver. There were no other people anywhere, no-one to call for help.

Cal's bag lay a few metres away from Cal, and Ethan realised it held Cal's stuff for when he was moving out. He didn't even wait until Ethan was awake. Cal was trying to escape his own flat…

Ethan fell onto his knees, feeling no pain as they hit the ground.

He grabbed his brother's hand. "It's okay, Caleb. I'm here. You're going to be alright. Why didn't you wait, hey? I would have helped with your stuff."

Cal snatched his hand away with strength Ethan didn't know he had. "Get away from me!" he shouted.

"Cal…" Ethan whispered in shock.

"No. You're useless! You're a waste of space!" he shouted, trying his best to move away from Ethan. Ethan couldn't find the strength to stop him. He was frozen in his place, not believing he was hearing this from his own brother.

"It's me, Cal. Nibbles. Your brother, yeah? It's me," he tried, though he knew nothing would get through to Cal.

It clicked to Ethan. If no-one helped soon, Cal would be dead. But he was sat still, unmoving out of fear and betrayal and… and loss.

"You're no brother of mine. You're a good-for-nothing murderer!" Caleb paused, pure hatred blazing in his eyes. "Mum would be ashamed to call you her son. She always was ashamed."

"Please, Cal…"

"No!" he screamed, before his body fell limp. His last words being implanted in Ethan forever.

* * *

His eyes snapped open. He glanced outside noticing how it was still dark. Faint light shone through his window from the street lamp down below. It gave him some illusion of calm, soon shattered by his own body. He could feel his heart beating against his ribcage.

_B-bom. B-bom. B-bom._

The sound reminded him that his mind will never… go away. His sleep will always be plagued with images of his past and present. Reminding him and taunting him and mocking him.

His brain was damaged. It had been ever since he was a child. He was a fool to ever think he was free from himself. His brain was messed up. It always was and it always will be. He probably wasn't even fit to treat patients. He couldn't save someone's life if he killed someone else. The sooner Cal was rid of him the better. It was a lucky escape for him. He just needed to make sure Cal wouldn't go into 'protective-big-brother' mode. Not that there was a chance for him to ― he was moving out.

He didn't want to live with Ethan. He'd rather sleep on a sofa and live with three other people.

As long as Ethan stayed away from people, he couldn't damage them as well. He couldn't hurt them or damage them or taint them or kill them. He'd done enough of that to his brother during his childhood, and he'd killed a man he considered a friend.

There was a special place in Hell for Ethan. The sooner he arrived there, the better.


	15. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved." ― Mother Teresa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in less than a week? Is this still me? :D Bursts of inspiration have allowed me to update this and my other story recently so I'm hoping it continues! Thank you so much for your reviews and I really hope you continue to like this.

Ethan turned on his side, unsure whether he had the energy to get up and get ready. He didn't have the energy to get up and shower, and he didn't have the appetite of eat. He didn't have the motivation to carry a conversation and he didn't have the willpower to treat ill patients or… or watch them die.

He didn't want to be a burden on his brother which meant acting normal. He had to work past his draining energy. He didn't want to stop Cal from moving out. No matter how much he wanted Caleb to stay, he knew that Cal wanted to move out. Ethan was a terrible brother and this was proving it - he couldn't stand in the way of Cal's happiness just to please himself.

Yet acting normal when his brain was anything but was difficult. He barely had the energy to lift an arm, let alone walk all the way to work (unless Cal would drive) and complete his tiring shift in the ED. The only small mercy was his shift wasn't a night shift. It was a Friday after all, and Friday night shifts weren't ideal.

But the alternative was worse. It was Ash's birthday. He'd take a Friday night shift anytime over the birthday celebration in memory of a colleague who he killed.

The way Ethan saw it, he had three options. Option one was to not go. He could say he was unwell and escape just after his shift. But not going for the simple reason he was ill while still managing to attend his shift (he couldn't not go to work, that was out of the question), would be suspicious.

Option two was to go. No. That's off the list. Completely and utterly off the list.

Option three was to work overtime. Do a double shift. He could say the ED needed him and he was sorry he couldn't attend. He couldn't argue with Mrs Beauchamp and there were lives at stake. It was the only way, even if it meant working on a Friday night.

He felt like a child. Lying and sneaking just to get out of something. He didn't deserve Ash as a friend. Here Ethan was, thinking up ways to avoid celebrating his friend's birthday and remembering him.

He should have died instead.

* * *

Ethan had to put a conscious effort into walking without dragging his feet. His energy levels were low and his motivation-to-do-anything levels were even lower. He was almost certain he looked like death warmed up, but he couldn't care less about his appearance.

"You can at least look upset," Cal commented as Ethan walked into the kitchen. He heard a faint expel of air from Cal as he laughed slightly.

"What?" he asked tiredly, before getting the gist of it. "Oh, yeah. Right." Ethan was upset, he was more than upset. His older brother was deserting him and Cal didn't seem the slightest bit phased about it. He glanced at himself in the oven door, and he wasn't surprised that he didn't look upset. He didn't look anything but tired. "You alright?"

"Of course I am, Nibbles!" he said cheerfully. He leaned in closer to Ethan, voice bordering on concern. "You look… rough."

"Thank you, Caleb, for demonstrating your observational skills. My day is so much brighter now." Ethan said sarcastically, deliberately ignoring Cal's statement intended for an explanation.

"Okay, okay. I was only… you know what? Never mind. I'm only your brother, after all. I have no right to be concerned." He turned to the fridge.

_No! I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Caleb…_

Ethan said nothing. He'd unwillingly pushed his brother away. All because he wanted to protect himself. Stupid and selfish. If he carried on like this, he's push his brother so far away he wouldn't be able to get him back.

"Let's forget it, Ethan. I want this day to be happy," he said, smiling to ease the tension. He didn't wait for Ethan to formulate a response.. "Toast?" he offered, while putting his own bread in the toaster.

A wave of nausea washed over Ethan before settling in his stomach. "Um, no thanks."

Cal looked at him for a moment, thoughts unreadable on his face, and turned back to the toaster.

Ethan got himself a glass of water in silence. He was bringing it up to his mouth when he caught sight of a bag in the corner. He stumbled back, unknowingly dropping his glass of water, and bashed into the kitchen counter.

He saw Cal's bloody body, lying there on the road surrounded by more blood, next to a still van. He heard Cal's insults, the vicious words directed at Ethan, harsh and cutting. He felt the guilt and pain deep within him, the heaviness in his heart before his heart sunk to his stomach. He smelt the metallic blood, invading his senses and making him nauseous.

He saw… he saw Cal's eyes in front of his own. The caring eyes of his big brother. He heard Cal asking if he was okay, a worried voice accompanying the words. He felt Cal's soft and comforting hands on his shoulders, bringing him back to reality. He smelt Cal's toast burning.

Wait.

"Caleb! The toast!"

The soft hands fell away and Cal's eyes filled with panic. He darted over to the toaster and frantically pulled the handle up, popping out the slightly blackened toast. Ethan watched as he grabbed a tea towel and waved it around the smoke alarm, clearing the smoke before it set off the alarm. He breathed deeply, looked at Ethan, and smiled slightly. "Oops."

Ethan laughed faintly, feeling a brief and bubbly light feeling overtaking him. But when he felt the water around his feet and felt the faint stings of pain, he crashed back down to reality.

"I'm fine, Cal. The glass just slipped from my hand and I was just surprised," he explained before Cal had the chance to question him. "You worry too much."

Cal studied him skeptically. "That I do, little brother." He smiled and turned back to his toast. His shoulders fell as he sighed.

Ethan looked down at his feet and the bottoms of his trousers. They were very, very wet. There was glass everywhere. "Erm… Caleb?"

"Yep?"

He looked at his brother sheepishly. "Would you mind getting me my towel?"

* * *

Ethan was sat on his bed, utterly miserable. He'd dried his feet and Cal said he'd clear up the glass while Ethan changed his soaking wet trousers. But he was still sat in them, staring at his feet. They were slightly grazed from the broken glass. Not serious, just small little cuts. But it was enough to make Ethan think about his childhood.

_It helped. You know it helped._

Tears rushed to his eyes but they didn't fall. They blurred his vision. He wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to get rid of that  _voice_.

_You need it. You know you need it._

He could still feel the small stings, but it was feeling enough to tempt him.

"Come on, Ethan! We have to get going!"

That was the voice he wanted to hear. The calming voice of his brother. It grounded him. He wiped his tears away, told Cal he'd be out in a minute, and changed. He had work to do.


	16. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't stop." ― Shane Koyczan, Stickboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for your reviews! I'm sorry this took a while to get put up. I've been writing and re-writing it so much and I haven't been happy with it. I think I've just been focused on this chapter for far too long now and, because if that, I'll never be truly satisfied with it. I hope it is okay, though. Sorry for the delay.
> 
> TW: Seriously if you are triggered by the themes through this story DO NOT read on. From here on, it gets a lot darker. Your safety comes first.

"Is there a reason, Dr Hardy?"

Ethan was almost tempted to blurt out why he wanted to work overtime, but knew it wouldn't go down well. Trying to avoid a dead colleague's birthday celebration was selfish, and he didn't want anyone thinking badly of him when they already know he killed Ash. "Well I know a couple of doctors are off sick, so I thought you could do with some help."

Connie leaned forward, doubt playing on her features. "Is that the real reason?" she asked softly.

Ethan shifted where he stood, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and scrutinised. He tried his best to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Of course, Mrs Beauchamp. This is an ED with two doctors down on the next shift. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't help people who needed it?"  _A murdering one. A selfish, murdering one._

She sat back, looked at her computer screen (presumably checking something) and then back at Ethan. "It's the 24th today, Ethan."

"Yes?" Ethan responded, unsure of where it was going but, having a feeling of dread settle in his stomach.

"It's Ash's birthday today. There's a celebration in the pub in his honour," she said, tilting her head as if trying to look into his soul.

He stared at his feet. "Is it? Oh, yes. Must have slipped my mind." Ethan looked back up, hoping his posture didn't scream desperation. "About the overt-"

"Of course, I wouldn't expect you to work overtime today," Connie interrupted. Her voice quietened. "You were in that crash too, Ethan. Go to the celebration. Have a drink for him."

Ethan stiffened and nodded. "Thank you, Mrs Beauchamp." As an afterthought, he added, "will you be there?"

She nodded. "Yes, I will. I'll see you there, Ethan."

Ethan turned around and let his shoulders slump. He put his hand on the door handle and opened it.

"Thank you for the offer, Dr Hardy. I do have a locum coming in, though."

He walked out, his brain working fast to try and think of a way out of it. His shift ended in half an hour, but he somehow knew he wouldn't be able to find a way to get out of it. Connie was going to be there. She knew he wasn't ill. She knew he asked to work overtime and could probably see right through his reason. He had to go, but his body shivered violently at the thought.

* * *

Ethan stepped into the pub slowly, his mind at war with itself. He wanted to turn and walk away, run as far as he could. But then he saw the picture of Ash. He couldn't let him down. Not again. So he looked around, making it seem like he wanted to be there. He tried to smile broadly but his mouth wouldn't co-operate. Colleagues were talking happily, chatting away with bright eyes. A young girl was sat at a table in the corner, Lily talking to her. She seemed desolate. Ethan recognised her as Ella - Ash's daughter. She once had a taster at the ED with Lily as her guider. She was good, just like her father was.

_Was._

That poor girl. Ethan took away her father before she even turned twenty. What a horrible person he was.

_Horrible, horrible, horri-_

"Get that down you, mate," his brother told him, thrusting half a pint of beer into Ethan's hand. Ethan glanced at it then back at his brother, half-glad his haunting thoughts were interrupted and half-annoyed that he'd been noticed. There was no escape now. "You look like you need it."

Ethan finally managed to form his mouth into a smile, but it made his face ache with the fakeness of it. "Rough shift," he offered.

Cal nodded understandingly ( _though he can never understand how I feel. Never.)_ and motioned for Ethan to follow him as he took a seat at a table, with Max, Lofty and Iain - the paramedic who came back after taking a break. Ethan could think of a hundred places he'd rather be, then immediately felt guilt swell up inside of him. This was about Ash and Ethan should be there, celebrating his birthday. But he didn't deserve a friend like Ash. He didn't even deserve a friend. Or a brother.

He grasped his glass, needing something to latch onto as he remembered his first day in the ED. Ash had been so kind to him. He welcomed him and helped him with his patient, and when he told Ash and Zoe about his mother's death, he listened and offered support. How did he deserve Ash?

Ethan pushed his drink towards Cal as he noticed a banner reading, ' _Happy Birthday, Ash!_ '. "Not thirsty."

Cal shrugged and accepted it without a word, before his attention was drawn to his phone ringing. He grinned widely and answered it. "Aero! How are you? How was your evening yesterday? How's Owen? Ho-"

Ethan wanted to not listen to Cal being so elated, but he couldn't help himself. Jealousy washed over him. He didn't have anyone who loved him. Not a partner, not a friend, not even a brother.

"I do not talk too much!" laughed Cal. "I missed you last night... No, of course I'm not! Would I ever lie to someone as sweet as you?"

Ethan felt his throat close with emotion.

"Me? I'm at the pub. You know I told you about Ash? Yeah, it's his birthday today. No, no. It's fine... If you're sure? Okay, Aerona. I lo- have a great night. I'll call later if it's not too late. You need your beauty sleep after all!" he joked. "Bye, then."

Cal hung up and looked around the table at the curious faces.

"Aw! Is likkle ikkle Caleb all grown up?" Max teased.

"Oh, shut up," he retaliated, smiling despite the comment.

"Tell us more, then!" Lofty said, and Cal nodded happily.

All Ethan could do was watch them interact. Cal talking about how amazing Aero was, Lofty and Max and Iain sharing their experiences... the four of them happy and cheerful and friendly.

Ethan knew it would look strange if he left, but the thought of staying longer in a place he obviously wasn't wanted made his stomach churn. Then he was snapped out of his thoughts with possibly the worst thing he had ever heard.

"Who was it?" shouted a voice from the corner. Ethan spun around to follow to voice, as did the majority of the pub. Lily had her hand on Ella's arm - holding her back without force.

"Ella," Lily addressed calmly, face almost masking her confusion.

"Who the  _hell_ was driving that van? Who was it?!" she said, practically screaming at the end as she stood, brushing off Lily's hand with anger driven force.

Ethan could see where this was going. It was inevitable. A few people looked at him for a second, Cal a lot longer. But no-one said anything. It was obvious everyone knew what was unfolding.

"Ella, why don't you sit down?" Lily suggested. "Calm do-"

"Calm down?! My father is dead!" she shouted, tears streaming from her eyes. She was shaking where she stood.

Ethan was about to stand up and step forward to offer his condolences, telling her that it was him, but Cal placed a hand on his own. Ethan looked at him and Cal shook his head. 'Don't,' he mouthed.

Ethan didn't listen. "It was me and I'm so, so sorry," he admitted quickly.

Heads turned in Ethan's direction. Some pitying and some shaking their heads. Ethan had to own up: he killed her father. It didn't matter that people didn't want him to tell Ella. It wasn't like they cared for him.

"You." Ella stepped forward and Ethan stood up. "You killed my Dad," she said angrily.

It confirmed it. Ethan was a murderer. She thought so and it wasn't just in Ethan's head. It was all true. Ethan swallowed. "I am so sorry, Ella."

"Sorry won't bring my Dad back!" she screamed, knees buckling and falling to the floor in tears.

Ethan looked around, gaze settling on Cal's sad face. He couldn't stand it a second longer so rushed out into the night air. All he wanted was to go home and curl up in bed. Sleep and never wake up.

* * *

Cal took him home. Ethan had brushed off all attempts of comfort by saying that Ella was still grieving and it was natural she would try and find someone to blame. He told Cal he knew he wasn't responsible for crashing that car and he told Cal he was a little shaken up, but otherwise fine. He said he appreciated the help but he didn't need it. "I am a grown man, after all."

Now he was stood at the door to the block of flats, watching Cal put  _that_   _bag_ in the boot of the car. "And you're sure you don't mind me using the car?"

"For the last time, Caleb. No," he confirmed.

Cal nodded gratefully.

"Ready, mate?" Max called from the other side of the car. Cal nodded and walked up to Ethan.

"See you tomorrow, bro. Don't stay up too late partying, will you?" Cal laughed.

"Ha-ha," Ethan replied sarcastically. "Very funny, Cal."

Cal smiled and went back to the car, climbing in gingerly. "See ya, Ethan!" The engine started and Ethan watched sadly as the car was driven. Soon it was out of view. His last chance of happiness, hope and love. Gone.

* * *

Tears fell from his eyes, wetting his cheeks. He could feel the salty liquid touch his mouth. He didn't wipe them away. They just kept coming and coming and there would be no point.

There was no point in anything anymore.

Ethan screamed as he fell onto his knees, wishing and wanting someone or something to comfort him. Needing to be told everything was okay, even though he knew it wasn't. He was alone.

_Help. Please. Anyone. Help me._

A sudden thought entered his mind as he remembered that morning. The stings... the oh so good stings.

No. Not happening. Not again.

_But what if it did?_

He clambered up; weak body needing support from the table to rise. He pulled open the drawer with force, making the cutlery bash against each other. His eyes were drawn to the ordinary cooking knives. He knew what they could achieve.

His hand shook as he picked up and looked at the glinting metal blade. All he longed for was the feeling he knew would take away everything. He grasped the handle tightly, stumbling his way into his bedroom. His weak legs collapsed underneath him and he fell to the floor.

He wanted this. He needed this. This was it. He knew. He knew this would help. It wasn't as if it was dangerous. He knew how to control it. He knew what could do damage... the damage he wanted and didn't want.

He brought it down to his upper arm, knowing it was a place that could avoid being seen. The perfect place.

But he can't.

_But you can. You know you can._

Cal will find out. He'll be angry - furious, even.

_You know he won't find out. And he's not a good brother if he gets angry._

But he'll regret it. He'll regret it as soon as he finishes. That's from experience.

_But you won't regret it. You'll like it. You know how it feels. It feels better than anything you've ever experienced._

But it doesn't help. No, no, no. It doesn't. It doesn't.

_But it does help. It does, Ethan. You know it does. The pain. Remember the pain. Remember the stinging, lighting bolt pain._

But he won't. He won't give in. He's not weak.

_But you will. Do it. Do it. Doit. Doitdoitdoit._

And he did.


	17. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Having depression is being in an abusive relationship with yourself." — Emily Dotterer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've neglected to update His Mind's Darkness but I've hit a word-block with that. I've written have the chapter but I can't seem to finish it because the words just aren't… flowing. So I'm sorry about that. On another note, thank you so much for the positive reviews on the last chapter, I'm really pleased none of you hated it. I hope you like this one! I also really hope Ethan's bits aren't messy and undecipherable, if they are I apoligise.

Again. Again. Again. More. More. More. Need it. Need it more. Need it so, so, so much. Need moremore _more_. More. Feel it. Feel It. It. It. Feel It. Feel everything. Need to feel it. Needneed _need_.

Did it. Did more. More. More. More.

Better. So, so, so much better. Relief. Freedom. Free. Yes. Yes. Yes. More. More and more and more. Need more. Need to  _feel_. Feel it. Feel everything. Feel all of it. Feel it more. Right. Right. Goodgoodgood. Yes. Yes.

Yes?

No. No. No. No. Stop! No! Idiot. Idiot. Stupid. Idiot. Why, why why? Stupid! Stopstopstop.

STOP!

Stopped.

He did it. No. He shouldn't have. He did. No going back. No, no, no. He diddiddid it. No! Not happening. No. No. Not happening. Notnotnot happening. No. No. Wrong. Wrong.  _Not_  happening. No. Not happening.

Happening.

Happened. Happened. It happened.

NO! NO! NO! It wasn't meant to be like this. Not like this. No. No. No. He promised. Promisedpromisedpromised. Never again. Never. Never. No. No. No.

Failure. Worthless. Horrible. Murderer. Devil. Evil. Brother?

Nonononono. Not a brother. A sin.

Sin.

More. Need more.

Happening.

Not stopping.

Never.

* * *

Cal sat on the sofa, looking around curiously. He'd been to this house numerous times, and had even slept on the sofa, but this was a different feeling. He was staying here for a while, not going home to Ethan.

Ethan looked happy when he was leaving; at least, he wasn't begging him to stay. And that was good. It meant Cal was doing the right thing. Ethan needed space — not an annoying big brother hanging around the place and disrupting everything Ethan did.

He had to admit, it was nice. Staying with Ethan was lovely. He liked looking after him after the crash and at the flat. He was being a good brother again, and Ethan didn't seem to have any protests.

Then the clash between them began and Cal moving out was the best thing.

Cal looked up as he heard footsteps, accepting the beer that Max held out for him, before Max seated himself next to Cal and turned the television on. "Thanks." He studied the bottle. "Nice," he commented.

Max smiled. "Right then. I have _The Fast and The Furious_  boxset or the  _Die Hard_  boxset," he proposed, and Cal grinned. Ethan would have hated this, but this was a nice feeling of enjoyment.

" _The Fast and The Furious_ sounds great!" laughed Cal, clinking his beer bottle with Max's just before he set up the movie. "I'm really grateful for this, mate. Thanks for letting me stay."

Max shook his head warmly. "You don't have to keep thanking me. It'll be nice having another man in the house."

"But… Lofty?" Cal said, tilting his head in confusion.

Max smiled broadly. "Yeah, I have having to put up with two girls. It really sucks."

They both laughed, Cal even more so. It was nice laughing and not worrying about anything. Not worrying about Ethan's cleanliness (though he was sure Robyn will keep him in his place!). It was nice just feeling free. Being with mates that won't give you a lecture or have the Brother's Disappointment. This was almost perfect. He had a girlfriend, was living ( _temporarily, Caleb — don't get carried away)_  with his mates, had a stable job and had a brother who he was on kind-of good terms with. It was almost a relief knowing he wouldn't see Ethan every day. Living with someone was a lot different than seeing them a lot. Maybe their relationship would grow stronger now Ethan didn't have to put up with Cal anymore. It was never a permanent ( _don't try and act like you didn't want it to be permanent_ ) thing, anyway. Moving in with Ethan was so Cal could keep an eye on him after the crash. But he was healed and recovered now and didn't need Cal anymore.

Maybe it was better this way. It was how it had been for years, after all. The sad thought crossed his mind that last time he moved out was because he was positive Ethan would be alright without him, he was positive Ethan's mental health wouldn't deteriorate. And now Ethan's physical health was okay, and he was fully healed after the crash, he could move out. It was a stable pattern, and nothing could go wrong now everything was sorted.

He stared unseeingly at the television screen, unable to shake the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that kept pestering him. The feeling that he  _knew_ something was happening. Something bad. That moving out was a bad decision.

But he didn't know why, and knew knew it would carry on bothering him until he saw Ethan in work the next day.

* * *

Ethan shook and shivered and trembled. Hatred for himself burning inside of him, ripping apart everything else and throwing it into an ever-burning flame that rested in him. He curled up where he was, barely noticing the hard floor underneath him. He'd intended to have a shower, wanting to feel the burning hot water against his skin. Washing away everything he was and used to be and will be. He wanted it to wash away  _everything_.

But he was too weak. Far, far too weak. He was useless. He could feel the last drops of blood drying on his skin. A feeling that he shouldn't feel. Because he made a promise to his brother. The one thing he wanted,  _needed_ to keep. A trust that would never be broken. And he'd blown it.

Ethan lost control. When he was younger, he nicknamed it The Habit. Because the 'proper' words for it didn't apply to him. It was exactly that — a habit. It wasn't harming himself. That would suggest he was ill. It was just a habit. A simple little habit. A harmless little habit.

But he completely lost control of himself. It was meant to be one. One small thing. But it turned into two, then three. Then more. Many, many more. And it was turning back into The Habit.

But it wasn't dangerous. It was normal for him. it was completely normal and he knew how to handle it. It was a blip. Tonight was just a small and simple little blip. It was just a habit. He saw patients like himself… but they didn't deserve it. They deserved happiness and joy and love. They deserved their family and their friends. They deserved help and support.

Ethan didn't. He deserved this. He deserved all of this.

He thought again about having a shower, wanting to wash away his feelings. Wanting to feel the water on his skin, burning him and cleansing him. But his last scraps of energy were used up and all he could do was lay numbly on the tiles, staring at the white porcelain, his thoughts racing around in his head, haunting him.

Never going to stop.


	18. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes when I say "I'm okay", I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight and say, "I know you're not." - Anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been seriously considering stopping this and my other story (hence the long break in-between updates) as I know that I'm really not doing these ideas much justice with my writing. I think I'm going to carry on for now because I don't want to leave these stories unfinished, but I'm sorry about the quality (or rather, lack of) and the terrible update rate.

_Saturday, 25 October 2014_

"Can you stop pacing?" Lofty sighed.

Cal looked up from his phone, about to throw a remark but caught it before it escaped his mouth. "Sorry," was all he came out with. He sat down (sparing Lofty from his pacing) on the stool, but was unable to stop moving  _completely_ and instead opted for bouncing his knee up and down. He stared at his phone screen again, watching the messaging screen desperately. He tried and failed to hold back, so sent another text in record time.

_where r u? ? ? im worried_

It was his fifth text to Ethan in the last hour, and he'd called him three times. It wasn't like Ethan to be late for work, but Ethan was an hour and a half late. Connie was on the warpath.

"What's up?" Lofty said from behind him, making Cal jump suddenly. He spun around.

"Don't creep up on people like that!" he said, embarrassed by his own reaction and not being able to hold back this time.

Lofty looked sheepish but said no more on the matter. "You've been staring at that screen like your life depends on it."

Cal shrugged and went back to staring. His life may as well depend on it. "Ethan's late and he's not replying to my messages or picking up my calls."

Lofty laughed. "You care, I'll give you that. You've lived away from him for one night and you're already worried sick about him. You didn't even live together for that long before you moved out! Who are you, and what have you done with Caleb Knight?"

"Ha-ha, funny," Cal dead-panned.

Lofty raised his eyebrows. "I thought you'd be more interested in staring at your phone screen and waiting for your girlfriend to reply!"

Cal turned back around and sighed. "Seriously, Lofty. Not helping. Don't you have some bloods to take or something?"

Lofty shrugged half-heartedly and went to sit down at the sofa, back to reading his book.

Then Cal started to feel a bit bad, (after all, Lofty was being kind to him), but had no time to deliberate on it as his phone beeped. Cal very so nearly jumped.

_Sorry. I overslept. See you soon._

Alarm bells immediately rang in Cal's mind: Ethan never overslept. But then he pushed it aside. Just because Ethan hadn't overslept in the short while Cal had known him since they were children, didn't mean he hadn't overslept before. Everyone's human, after all. It didn't stop the feeling of worry. The car accident really spiked Cal's protectiveness over Ethan, but he was human too.

Cal, feeling content now he at least had a reply from Ethan, went back to work (after ringing Aero and making his morning brighter, of course).

* * *

Ethan rubbed at his face furiously, frustrated with himself for oversleeping. In the end, he'd dragged himself from the bathroom and collapsed into bed last night (or was it early morning?). He tossed and turned for hours, until he finally managed to slip off to a nightmare plagued sleep. That was until the incessant ringing and messaging noises, alerting him to his overprotective brother, woke him from his not-so-peaceful slumber.

Now he was lying in bed, not having the energy or motivation to get up. His arm stung, the sheets rubbing against the physical form of his feelings, and he didn't know why he even had to go to work. It wasn't like he was needed there. They had plenty of doctors that were much better at their job than Ethan.

So why did he have a degree in medicine?

Ethan considered skipping it. It wasn't like he was in any fit state to work. It was only yesterday that Ella had blamed him for her father's death.

 _It wasn't blame_ , he reminded himself.  _Blame would imply it wasn't the truth. But it was the truth. You know it was the truth Ethan. You killed him._

And he was certain, without even a smidgen of a doubt, that everyone thought so too. They hadn't told him directly, but that was because they were decent people. They didn't want to hurt Ethan. But they thought it. Ethan could see it in their eyes. Every time they looked at him they saw the man who killed Ash. The man who should have died instead.

Ethan threw his head down onto his bed with force, disappointed the surface underneath was soft and would cause no pain. He needed something to help him distract himself, to stop his inner demons from ripping himself apart. He did it again and again and again, the surface not getting any harder and his head not feeling any pain. He wished he could do something else to help or to stop the pain or to do something, but his energy drained suddenly and all he could do was turn on his front and bury his face into his pillow. He willed himself to sleep without nightmares, or even to sleep at all.

Work could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Ethan opened his heavy eyes when he heard the sound of the door being unlocked. After a second of feeling confused and a little worried, he realised it was probably Cal. Who should be in work and doesn't live here anymore. Ethan didn't move. He didn't bother. Cal probably just forgot something and had come home to get it. Ethan could stay under his bed covers and try not to think too much.

But then the banging on his bedroom door came and Ethan knew Cal wouldn't give up.

"Ethan? Are you okay?"

The banging continued. It made Ethan's head pound and Ethan almost welcomed the pain it brought.

He gulped when he realised the enormous task ahead of him would have to be done. Cal wouldn't go away, after all. He tiredly and lethargically dragged himself out of bed, slipped his jacket on over his pajamas and opened his bedroom door without any enthusiasm. "Cal?"

Cal had concern written all over his face and looked at Ethan all over, almost studying him. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly, still studying Ethan.

"Nothing," Ethan replied with a considerable drop in speed compared to his brother, leaning against the doorframe in fear of his legs being too weak to hold him.

His brother let silence hang in the air, before talking hesitantly. "Are you... okay?"

Ethan nodded tensely. "Yes, Caleb," he breathed. "I'm okay."

Cal shook his head adamantly, looking upset.  _That's all I ever do. Cause misery_. "Ethan, something's wrong. I can tell." He paused. "You're meant to be in work," he pointed out. "And you never miss work."

Ethan shrugged and decided not to answer the latter statement. "You're meant to be in work too."

Cal looked as if he wanted to take a step back. "I'm on my break. I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," he answered simply, feeling more and more of his energy drain.  _I'm not fine. I'm really not fine. Help me, Cal. Please._

Cal was frustrated. Ethan could tell. "For God's sake, Ethan!"

"Don't shout," he complained, thinking up an excuse that could hopefully get rid of his brother so he could crawl back into bed.  _But I don't want to get rid of you… I want your help._ "I've got a headache. That's all."

An ashamed look passed over Cal's face. "Oh... sorry for shouting."

_I make people feel bad too._

"You should be in work. All I need is some sleep and I then I can be in work tomorrow. I can't do much in an ED with a headache now, can I?" His brain was starting to hurt, causing a real headache. He was using up his last energy scraps - and it's not like he had much to begin with.

Ethan could see Cal's brain working. "Is it because of last night? The stress? The worry?" he quizzed.

"You're talking nonsense," Ethan brushed off. "It's just a normal headache. Everyone gets headaches sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess," Cal allowed, but the worried look from his face didn't drop. It only seemed to intensify.

 _Please stay with me._ "So you can go back to work now," he prompted.

Cal looked down and bit his lip awkwardly. "Okay. Uhm... call if you need anything. I'll - erm - go."

"You're forgetting, Cal. I'm a grown man and you moved out last night. Stop worrying so much."

Cal smiled with the left corner of his mouth. It didn't look quite real, but the intent was there. He turned around and Ethan shut the door, listening for the front door shutting. Once he heard it, Ethan slid down his own bedroom door. He didn't have the energy to stand. He didn't have the energy to do anything. His limbs felt far too heavy for his body and his head felt thick. He wasn't tired but he wasn't even near energetic.

_Why couldn't you see, Cal? I need you. I need you so, so much. Please…_

He sat there, staring numbly at the end of his bed, wishing he'd just disappear.

Cal didn't deserve such a useless brother.


	19. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We try so hard to hide everything we're really feeling from those who probably need to know our true feelings the most. People try to bottle up their emotions, as if it's somehow wrong to have natural reactions to life." ― Colleen Hoover, Maybe Someday

_Sunday, 26 October 2014_

He groaned to himself as he dragged his tired body out of bed. He didn't feel as useless or lethargic as yesterday, but he didn't really feel anything else. He spent most of the day sleeping after Cal checked up on him. The majority of his sleep was thankfully peaceful (discounting the constant waking up), but the rest was plagued with nightmares. The most horrible thing being he could  _never_ tell it was a nightmare while he was in one. That was terrifying. Even as grown as he was, nightmares were still terrifying to him. He still surprised himself as how weak he was.

But today was a better day than yesterday. There was a bar, of sorts. At the bottom of the bar was his worst ever feelings. At the top, a happiness he knew he would never reach. He was definitely around three quarters of the way down. Maybe even seven eighths of the way down. He wasn't right at the bottom of the bar, and that meant he had to go to work. Or at least try.

He needed to be normal, to grasp onto the tiny fact that if he was normal (not that he wanted to believe he was abnormal — what does normal even mean, after all) and hope that he could retain some level of stability in his life.

He switched on the shower, knowing that while he didn't want to, it was a necessity and accounted towards stability.

Ethan hissed in pain and quickly drew back his hand as he realised that he'd turned the water up too high. A small part of him tried to pursuade Ethan to not turn it down, to suffer through the pain of the hot water.

He pushed it down. He was meant to be living like a normal person. And Cal (as an example) wouldn't do that. So Ethan wouldn't. (No matter how tempting it was.)

Ethan turned the temperature of the shower down and tested the water with his hand. Once it had reached a suitable temperature, he shed his clothes and stepped in. He leant his head back and let the water run over his face. It was almost relaxing, but it didn't distract from the fact he'd still have to go into work and make it through a whole shift. In an emergency department. While Cal was also on shift.

He couldn't drag his mind away from what happened the last time he saw most of his colleagues. It was two days ago — when Ella accused him of killing her father. Ethan couldn't help replaying what she said, it went round and round in his mind. Her voice, full of hurt and anguish.

Without a second thought, he turned up the temperature on the shower.

* * *

Ethan tried his best to look casual as he strolled (well, tried to stroll) through the doors and into his workplace, but it was hard when he could hear his blood pumping rapidly in his ears. As Noel spotted him, he smiled warmly. It was nothing out of the ordinary and Ethan would usually greet him back. But as he did today, he was painfully aware of how forced it seemed. His words were strained and he was positive his own smile looked fake.

He rapidly walked away from the reception area and headed in a beeline for the staffroom. That was his goal this shift. Avoid everyone unnecessary. If he could work alone, he would. If he required the presence of a nurse, he would ask them swiftly, ensured they did the task, and send them on their way. He couldn't have anyone seeing him work and watching, waiting for him to mess up.

"Dr Hardy."

Ethan jumped furiously as Connie appeared behind him, the shock jolting his hand and making him miss the keyhole for his locker. He turned, trying as hard as he could to look relaxed and not like he'd just jumped a mile. After all, normal people - like Cal - probably wouldn't jump.

She smiled at him, and Ethan couldn't help thinking there was a hidden motive.  _For goodness sake, Ethan. Stop being so paranoid._

"You weren't well yesterday, I hear."

Ethan nodded, his throat constricted with an emotion he hadn't expected. Upset over he didn't know what.

"I trust you're well enough today?"

It was a task to get his throat to work without sounding like a complete idiot. He surprised himself, as when he spoke, his voice was calm and smooth. "Yes, Mrs Beauchamp. I'm raring to go."

"Glad to hear it. Stick to cubicles today, just in-case you aren't one hundred percent yet."

He nodded once more, glad of the escape from resus but careful not to show it.

Connie looked ready to leave, but she faltered. "Ethan."

The use of his first name threw him off slightly, but he pulled himself together enough to focus on what she was saying.

"I know this isn't my area of expertise, but… what happened at the pub a couple of days ago —"

"I'm fine, Mrs Beauchamp," he interjected, quick to reassure her. He smiled hollowly. "Ella was — is — upset. I would be the same if that had happened to Cal."

She seemed encouraged that he was okay, so smiled gently one more time and left.

Ethan spun back to his locker and opened it, hastily putting away his things and grabbing his scrubs and slipping them on in record quick time (and being thankful he remembered to wear a long-sleeved top).

He closed his locker just a quick and heaved a breath, trying to prepare himself for the shift ahead. Being in cubicles was a much better option than being in resus, but it begged the question about Connie's confidence in Ethan. And while Ethan would place a recovering medic in a less stressful environment too, it was different.

Connie obviously didn't trust him in resus, and the enquiry about what happened at Ash's birthday celebration was proof.

Ethan shook his head violently, trying to shake out all his emotions and trying to restore a cool head. It would have worked had another person not stepped in the staffroom. As Lily's voice came from behind him, all of Ethan's calmness (not that there was much, barely a handful — metaphorically, of course) flew away.

He knew why Lily was here. To destroy their friendship as she tore him down with her harsh words about how he was to blame and how he should have died instead. Lily wasn't one for lying or sugar-coating anything, and this was it.

All of his fears would be confirmed.


	20. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems." ― Epictetus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow am I glad that I finally had time to do some guilt-free writing. I am incredibly sorry about the slow updates - I'm on and off of this site a lot due to being swamped with coursework and stuff, and I can't write without feeling guilty if I have stuff to do - even if it's revision. And then if I don't write (I love it, don't get me wrong, but guiiilllttt) I feel guilty for not updating for ages.
> 
> It astounds me that I used to be able to update previous stories everyday, and sometimes even twice a day. How did I ever do that?! But finally I've managed to come on top of the work for now so... guilt-free writing! I don't expect regular updates because every day there's always more work and I am really sorry. I know it's annoying and frustrating when a story is left and I don't know how many times I've said I'm sorry, but I really am. I love writing and it's annoying that I don't get enough time for it anymore, but this is a hobby and I have to focus on higher priority things before this. Anyway I've rambled (as usual!), so on with the chapter and I hope you enjoy!

Ethan watched cautiously as Lily smiled gently. Not a common feature usually on her face, but one Ethan had experienced before and liked very much. There was something about Lily Chao's smile that put Ethan at ease. At least, it used to. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling now.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded numbly; acutely aware she was looking at him searchingly. "Are… are you?"

"Yes, I'm okay, thank you. Look, about what happened on Friday –"

"Can we not?" he cut in abruptly. "It's just, I've already… well, Connie just talked to me about it and I'm fine. I swear."

She tilted her head and breathed deeply. "I'm concerned about you, Ethan. You're my friend."

 _Well done, you utter idiot._ "Yes. Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. No, um, yes. Carry on; um… forget I said anything." Ethan clasped his hands behind his back, wringing them and digging his fingernails into his palm. He needed a distraction to stop his whirling thoughts and the oncoming panic that filled him.

"What Ella said was wrong. You are not to blame: no-one is to blame."

Ethan was prepared to re-evaluate his earlier assessment. Lily  _was_  one for lying. Ethan was to blame, and Lily lying to him about it wasn't going to change the fact he's a horrible human being who killed someone.

"You said you were sorry, Ethan. Which would imply that you were to blame. Please tell me you do not believe that girl?"

His hands hurt, but he welcomed the distraction. "Of course I don't, Lily." He gave her a small smile. "Ella is hurting and I understand that."

He knew he didn't lie very well, and Lily's disbelieving look was enough to tell him that. "Ella is a lovely girl, and I'm sure she didn't mean it –"

"I know, Lily. I'm fine, really." He smiled again, hoping it would reassure Lily. It didn't seem to do anything expect make her look more concerned.

"And yesterday? You weren't here, and we were on the same shift. I was worried."

Ethan shrugged it off. "I had a headache. Actually," he pretended to think, "it was probably bordering more on a migraine."

"If you're sure," she said uncertainly, nodding once at him.

"Of course, Lily. Thank you… for caring."

This time Lily did smile, and it was warm.

But it made Ethan question everything. He truly believed it was his fault Ella's Dad had died. He was driving the car and someone had  _died_. Someone lost their life because of him… so what was Lily's motive for lying to him? What did she get out of it? Was it some way to get back at him for something? Or did she just not like him anymore? After all, she was in the crash too.

Of course!

She blamed him because she was hurt too. She lost Ash (her old mentor, as Ethan was told) and she was injured. But that still didn't answer the question of what she got out of it.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "I know you were in that crash too…"

She took a step towards him, smiling. "I'm fine, thank you, Ethan. It was almost a month ago. Yes, it still saddens me that Ash was gone –" He knew it! "– but I am physically fine."

"And Friday? I know I left early… but you were sitting with Ella… are you okay after everything that happened?"

"Ella is a sweet girl who's just hurting. It's understandable, she lost her father. We managed to talk a bit throughout the evening, and she calmed down a bit after a while. She's still grieving." She paused. "I can see you're not fine, Ethan. Please don't think I'm that much of a bad friend that I can't tell when you're hurting."

His hands shook behind him and it took all of his energy not to collapse onto his knees and cry. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said casually. He didn't know why he was pushing her away, but he couldn't let anyone get close. If they did, they'd only end up hurt. He'd seen it happen enough times.

She sighed. "Yes, you do, Ethan. I… just… if you need to talk, or need a friend… just find me. Because you're my friend, you're my very good friend, and it hurts to see you hurting."

 _No, no, no! Lily's hurting because of_ you _! See what you do? Spreading hurt everywhere you go. Just get her away from you. Stop hurting her!_

"Thank you, Lily. But really, I am fine. I can still feel my headache from yesterday, but apart from that I'm alright."

She nodded, but Ethan could see the uncertainty there.

Quick to change the subject, he said, "so, any interesting patients?"

Lily's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot! There's a man in cubicle three with a pencil stuck in his ear."

Ethan was glad of the distraction. "Lead the way, Dr Chao."

"It would be my pleasure, Dr Hardy."

* * *

"Why would you let your child stick a writing implement in your ear?" Lily asked Ethan.

They'd just discharged Mr Rock after extracting the pencil from his ear. It had turned out, his daughter had become a little too excited during Pictionary and, somehow, a pencil had ended up in Mr Rock's ear.

"I don't think it was really his choice, Lily." He would have laughed. In normal situations, he would have laughed. But there was just an empty pit in his stomach and even his smiles felt wrong.

Before they had any chance to continue the conversation, Dixie and Jeff came in with a young girl in a wheelchair. "This is Allie Evans, she's 15 years old. She was thrown into a wall and then thrown to the ground by bullies."

"They aren't bullies! They're just people in my class," she cut in.

"Okay, she was attacked by people in her class. She has a head laceration and a possible sprained wrist. She refused a neck brace."

He continued listing Allie's condition as they made their way to Cubicle 2. Ethan was taking in everything he was saying but was also partly distracted by the fact Allie was attacked by bullies. He'd had his fair share of bullies in the past, and it hurt to see her not even acknowledging that they were bullies.

He told himself not to become fixated on this… but maybe he could help her. Maybe he wasn't such a bad person after all.


	21. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A broken heart bleeds tears." ― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. It's been ages as per usual. I think the problem is that this chapter has been really boring for me to write so I just kept putting it off... but I finally have it! Considering this has been 5 months in writing, I'm really not happy and everything seems so awful with this chapter but I don't think I ever will be happy with it so I'm sorry, but this is all I have.
> 
> I don't know if anyone is still reading this, it's been 2 years since I first started this and the time between updates is getting longer and longer (hopefully that will change but I can't promise anything), but if anyone actually is still reading this, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, the girl Ethan was treating was originally called Connie, but it had completely slipped my mind when coming up with a character name that Connie Beauchamp existed, so for the sake of it not being confusing, I've changed the girl's name from Connie to Allie.

Ethan thanked Jeff and Dixie as they left Allie with him. "Hello, Allie. I'm Dr Hardy - but you can call me, Ethan. If you would just like to sit on the bed please, and I'll have a look at you."

Ethan watched as Allie sat on the bed just Lofty entered the cubicle to help him out. "Ah, Lofty. This is Allie, 15. She has a head laceration and a suspected sprained wrist after being pushed into a wall and thrown to the ground."

Lofty smiled at Allie, "I'm Lofty, one of the nurses. Excuse the nickname," he said when Allie grinned, "it just sort of stuck when I got here."

Ethan took Allie's wrist in his hand, being as careful as he could and apologising when he hissed in pain."So where were you when this happened? What did you fall on?"

"School. I fell on Tarmac."

"It's Sunday, what were you doing in school?" Lofty asked.

"Cross country practice," she said as if it were obvious. "There's a race next week, I've got to be prepared."

"I used to do cross country," Lofty said, making light conversation as Ethan carefully put down her wrist and went to examine the cut on her head.

Ethan turned his head to the side. "Really?"

"Not that I was any good," he laughed.

Allie snapped her head away from Ethan when he touched a particularly tender part. "When can I go?"

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid. We have to get you checked out and make sure you're okay," Ethan told her, and Allie slumped back against the bed. "Is there a parent or guardian we can call for you?"

"No."

Lofty glanced at Ethan. "No-one? Dad? Mum? ...Aunt?"

Allie shook her head and looked away. "My Dad's working."

"What about your Mum?" Ethan asked, picking up Allie's notes and recording her pulse.

"Step-Mum. And she's away."

Ethan nodded. "Right. I'm afraid we have to call someone, you're only 15. Are there no other people we can call? I'm sure your Dad won't mind being disturbed… his daughter is in a hospital."

"You can't ring him!" she said frantically.

Ethan and Lofty said no more on the matter and continued treating her.

* * *

The cut on her head was superficial as far as Ethan could tell, and Lofty had finally found an x-ray slot for Allie. As Max took her out of the cubicle, Lofty turned to Ethan.

"Do we call the Dad?"

"She's 15, we have to call someone. I'm thinking yes. At least to assess their home situation better, she won't tell us why she doesn't want her Dad called."

Lofty nodded and walked out of the cubicle, leaving Ethan to wonder whether he made the right call.

* * *

"You've called me away from work because of a cut on her head?" Allie's father exclaimed.

Ethan had been practically battling this man ever since he'd arrived. He'd shown an ounce of sympathy for his daughter but once learning of her condition had blown up at Ethan, accusing him of ruining his day.

"With all due respect, Mr Evans, your daughter could have been very seriously injured."

"But she wasn't!" He took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh, his hand grasping the back of his neck. "Look, I'm sorry. Things are just… piling up, and this is just another thing I don't need right now."

"Mr Evans, you need to be with your daughter. She has been injured and it could have been a lot worse."

He didn't say anymore, just walked towards Allie. Ethan watched him go, wondering what he meant.

But he had no time to deliberate because Lofty darted up to him, pulling him from his thoughts. "Ethan, you're needed in resus," he said.

The panicked tone from Lofty startled him somewhat and he followed swiftly, straight to resus behind Lofty.

 _Oh no. Please no._  Before him lay a man. He couldn't estimate the age nor see his face through all the blood, and the long and drawn out sound from the monitor seemed to echo all around his head. He had never seen this man before (at least he didn't think so) but he didn't need telling of what was expected to happen. Ethan to save his life.

His mind was too busy while Charlie was updating him (though he vaguely took in that this was Cal's patient but Cal had disappeared) and he acted on instinct rather than on the information he was given.

His hands shook as he worked, the longer it took for him to revive this man the more he doubted his ability. His mind wandered to Allie for a moment, and while he knew she was okay and was just in the ED for observation now, there was still a niggling feeling in his mind that he had missed something.

Then again, he probably had missed something. He always misses something.

Then the noise beside him seemed to invade his thoughts and he glanced at the monitor. He stepped away from the man in front of him, his own gloved hands bloody. Despite opening him up, Ethan knew there was no hope.

He recited the time of death without feeling, his body filled with numbness. He may not have left this patient like his brother did - and where  _was_ Cal? -, but he certainly didn't save him like he was supposed to.

He discarded the bloody apron and gloves without much thought and ignored the calls of his name as he exited resus, focused on getting out of there so his foggy brain had time to think.

* * *

He rubbed at his forehead and stared into his cold and untouched coffee. It wasn't his break yet - it wasn't his break for another half an hour, but he was so tired. Occasionally, now in the silence of the staffroom, he would remember Ella's haunting voice. Screaming at him. Blaming him. And yes, he knew she was right, but it hurt to remember, hurt to hear it replayed in his own head. Then, even more haunting, he remembered Ash's face. Grinning at him while they worked together. He remembered how kind Ash had been to him on his first day in the ED. How kind he had been when he learnt of Ethan's mother's death. He offered his support, he suggested he go home early (to which Zoe agreed) and then he'd offered a listening ear should he ever need it.

But now he will never listen to anyone ever again because he's dead and Ethan killed him.

"You know Lofty's looking for you?" Cal asked cheerfully as he entered the staff room.

"What?" Ethan said, only catching the last part of Cal's question.

He stepped round to the front of Ethan, peering at his face. "You okay, bro? You look a little... pale."

Ethan sat up straighter and plastered a smile on his face. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."

Cal shrugged and dropped the subject, grabbing an apple and taking a big bite out of it. With his mouth full of food he said, "Lofty's looking for you," spraying little pieces of apple in the process.

"Caleb, that's disgusting. And I didn't catch that, what did you say?"

Cal chuckled. "I said -" he swallowed audibly - "Lofty's looking for you."

"Right, thanks." Ethan discarded his coffee in the sink and carelessly left the mug on the side, uncaring of his usual etiquette of washing it, before making to walk out. "Oh and Caleb, where exactly were you when your patient - Mr Douek if I recall - was  _dying_?"

He didn't wait for an answer and walked out.

* * *

"Lof -"

"Ethan, thank God. Allie's gone."

It took a moment to register in Ethan's slow brain what exactly Lofty had said to him. But as soon as he did he started to worry. "W-what do you mean,  _gone_? She's has a head injury. She's supposed to be under observation!"

"Yes, I know. I tried explaining that to her Dad because he wanted her discharged and he wouldn't listen - something about his business and how he had to get back to work - but then I was called away and I went back and they were gone!"

Ethan took a deep breath, scanning around cubicles for a moment. "Okay, okay. Her head injury isn't severe so that's not a problem, so let's not panic." (Though Ethan was very much panicking, after all, head injuries can change in seconds.) "Have you checked outside?"

"I didn't see them. They could have already left or they could still be in the hospital."

At the prospect of a 15-year-old with a head injury who might have already left the hospital, Ethan's panicking manifested into whole-body shaking. "We need to find her. Now."

* * *

"I was on the phone to Aero. You know, my girlfriend. Owen had fallen and she'd become worried. So I was on the phone to her."

Ethan had run outside to see if he could see Allie and her father when Cal had stridden up to him indignantly and just started to talk at - rather than to - him.

"Caleb, I don't have time for this."

"No, no. I'm sorry that I was comforting my distressed girlfriend after her brother - who was seriously injured two weeks ago - called instead of saving a man's life who's chances of survival were less than 1 percent!" Cal's face was turning red as he spoke, but Ethan found that for once, he couldn't be bothered with Cal and how he was speaking.

"Can we talk about this later?" He sighed. "I need to find a -" Ethan could feel the colour drain from his face, he didn't need Cal to point it out like he did. His eyes strayed to a man calling for help. A man he knew as Allie's father. And next to him, a young girl. Seizing on the ground.

* * *

Ethan took some shaky breaths in and out, trying to control his emotions. He couldn't walk into the relative's room and tell Allie's father when he himself was not in the best shape. He stared at the teenager on the bed, mentally shouting at himself for not spotting it. He didn't spot the bleed. He didn't spot it and it grew and grew and became a child on a bed on life support. That poor kid...

No. He couldn't think about that. There was a distressed father in the relatives room right now and he needed to know what was going on. He nodded at Cal, making sure he had everything covered, before making the long and painful journey to where Mr Evans would be.

He shut his eyes, breathed in deeply through his nose, and let it out through his mouth as he entered the relatives room. The man in there was silently crying, and although his tears continued his sobs did not as he saw Ethan. He stood up immediately, but obediently sat again as Ethan motioned him too, Ethan sitting opposite him.

Slowly and carefully, mindful of how he was phrasing things, Ethan relayed Allie's condition. Constantly slipping in apologies while he did and stopping himself at the last minute for saying he could make a complaint of negligence against Ethan. Because while he was negligent, it wouldn't help the father of a daughter with a slim chance of survival.

"I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear," he rushed out. "My business is failing and we haven't got enough money. Her mother died two years ago and we've been having arguments and her and her step-mum don't get along anymore and this bullying... and I didn't mean for this to happen but I couldn't leave the business, I thought she'd be okay because she  _was_ okay but now... now, what am I going to do? I can't lose her as well, I can't!"

As he started to cry loudly, it was enough that Ethan could take. He'd reached his limit and against his better judgement, he darted from the room, bumping into Mrs Beauchamp on the way. "I'm sorry," he ground out, head down to hide his tears.

"Dr Hardy?" she said, shocked. "Whatever has happened?"

Ethan considered keeping his mouth shut, but then he heard his own voice. "There's a man in the relatives room, his daughter might not survive and... and I couldn't, I mean I-"

"It's alright, Ethan. We're doctors, not supernatural beings." She paused. "Go home. Come back tomorrow, you'll feel more refreshed. I'm not blind, I know what kind of a day you've had today. It can't have been easy after all that's happened this month... go on. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ethan kept his head bowed through it all and when she finished, he mumbled a quick thanks and went to the staff room to get his clothes. He didn't bother changing out of them, he just wanted to get out of the hospital as quickly as he could. And it seemed Connie wanted him gone too. One shift and he not only let one patient die but he missed a potentially fatal head injury in a child... a  _child_!

He knew he hid his tears well, but as soon as he was out of the ED they came fast, tumbling down his face in what seemed to be a never-ending stream.

* * *

Ethan whacked his head on the steering wheel in front of him, gripping it tightly. He was aware that his glasses had fallen off his face but he made no move to put them back on. The thought of driving home made him tire so here he was, sat crying like a baby in his car just because he'd had a bad day. And he knew he shouldn't be. The poor man from earlier who died had a family who had lost him. Parents who'd lost their son and children who'd lost their dad. Allie, a young schoolgirl attacked by bullies on an ordinary Sunday, may never wake up. Her father, already having lost his wife and whose business was failing, had a high chance of losing his only daughter.

And Ethan knew it was all his fault. Just as it was his fault that Ella lost her father.

It seemed Ethan was brilliant at ripping apart people from their loved ones, so maybe he should rip himself apart from his loved ones - from Cal. Save the damage he will do in the future. Or maybe just because he shouldn't be allowed to have something he'd taken from other people. He wasn't the person that crashed into the minibus the day Ash died, but he should have been looking where he was going. He wasn't the person who landed Cal's patient in hospital, but he was a  _doctor_ and he should have been able to save him. And he wasn't those awful children who threw Allie to the ground, but he was  _her_ doctor and he'd missed her head injury. Then he'd hidden away in the staffroom and not been where he should have been. With Allie and her father, being the man he used to be and trying to help with not just the medicine but with the  _people_. Because Allie's family was not typical and they were struggling and all Ethan was doing was wallowing in self-pity like the horrible man he was.

And then there was his brother and his girlfriend. He had treated Owen, he had met Aero. He should be making sure Owen was okay and Cal – his  _brother_! – was alright too.

His head met the steering wheel again but he didn't feel it through all his emotional pain.

As much as Ethan didn't want to think about it, the crying mess of a man in his car didn't deserve a family after he had destroyed so many others.


	22. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A pattern of raised crisscrossed scars, some old and white, others more recent in various shades of pink and red. Exposing the stress of the structure underneath its paint." - Amy Efaw, After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter, they were all so sweet! And, in answer to your question Asteria, this is still being updated :D! I will finish this story, I am so determined to... even if it takes me 10 years xD.

Ethan stumbled into his flat, his keys slipping through his trembling fingers and clattering onto the floor. In the back of his mind he knew there was a possiblity he could step on them later, but his mind was too full to give them a second thought.

The unwelcome realisation that he'd not had much to eat today bit at him, but his stomach protested, churning at the thought of food, at the thought of even a slice of toast. He didn't deserve to eat, Ethan reminded himself, not when a child that he failed to save was lying, fighting for her life, on PICU.

That thought alone was enough to send him tumbling and crashing to his knees on the hard tile floor of his bathroom, shaking hard, throwing up into the toilet. Nothing but acidic bile came up, burning his throat and making his eyes water.

But he deserved it. He deserved every horrible thing to happen to him. Even his own brother didn't want to live with him.

His skin starting tingling. It was an uncomfortable but tempting sensation, one he knew all too well from his childhood. His Habit, manifesting the need for it as a tingling, almost burning sensation just underneath his skin. Tempting him, inviting him into a world of blissful pain. Where everything, just for a few moments, would be alright.

 _No!_ he screamed inside his own head.  _You are_ not  _weak._

He knew he had to fight it, had to forget about it. He ran his hands down his face, flinging his glasses aside, ran them through his hair, gripping it tightly.

"No!"

Bath. He knew he had to be sensible so he crawled the short distance to the bath and turned the tap on, resisting the urge to turn only the hot tap on and instead turning both the hot and the cold tap on. His knees felt too weak to hold him and for a moment he allowed himself to look forward to relaxing in warm water, letting his mind drift.

With no energy to stand properly, he slowly removed his clothes sitting down. He vaguely registered a bit of vomit on his shirt but he knew he was going to wash his clothes (if he remembered to, right now it wasn't the top of his priorities) so he tossed the shirt aside with the rest of his clothes. He sat by the batbtub, staring at the destructive object resting meekly on the other side of the tub, furthest away from him.

The tingling returned, the burning returned.

 _No_.

When it was full, he found the little energy he needed to get in the hot-ish bath and turn off the taps. He lay down, feeling the water cover him, trying to let it wash away everything that had happened. He hissed a little as it stung old cuts but the tingling and burning relished in it and Ethan found that he did too.

His eyes strayed to the offending object, his razor sitting on the side. And Ethan found he wasn't strong enough.

Within seconds Ethan's chest felt tight, his throat closed up. The tears ran down his face and Ethan tried to stop himself from letting out a sob. He was giving in, and he didn't care. His arm worked without command as it reached for  _it_.

And as he held it in his palm, his mind went blank. It was like a red flag to a bull.

Then it started.

* * *

Ethan let the razor fall from his weak and shaking fingers into the water. For the first time since getting in the bath he noticed the temperature of the water. Warm, tepid. Not hot anymore. And not clear.

The water around him was a pale red. Translucent. Dirty and disgusting.

Ethan was dirty and disgusting.

He almost fell out of the bath in his haste to get out. He clumsily grabbed his towel and scrubbed at his body, ridding himself of the water resting on him. He caught the cuts on his legs and upper arms and felt sick again. His stomach turned over and he had to stop for a moment to be sure he wasn't going to be sick for a second time.

_What the hell did I do?_

Ethan's burst of energy he'd had started to drain as he resigned himself to sitting on his floor, resting against the bathtub. He cooled slightly as the remainder of the water started evaporating from his skin, but instead of noticing that he sobbed and cried and wailed, mind travelling to poor Allie Evans. He screamed and raged against everything, how everything was unfair and how he was a stupid, worthless person who should never have been allowed to live past his teenage years.

Salty tears slipped past his lips, but all Ethan could taste was despair. He bashed his head against the bathrub, and the pain radiated throughout. But he didn't care. He welcomed it.

There was nothing to care for anymore. Not after this. Not after he practically  _killed_ a child. How, how on Earth was it fair that that sweet, little, innocent child was allowed to nearly die while he, Ethan Hardy, was saved. He was destined to become  _this_ and  _he_ was the one allowed to live?

Then the full reality of what he had just done hit him like a tonne of bricks. It crashed down upon him as he realised, he realised  _just_ what he'd done. Guilt flooded him and he looked down at the destruction on his body. He cried more. He cried hard.

_What the hell have I done?_

* * *

He didn't even register feelings as he was cleaning the thin layer of blood remenence from the drained bathrub. He didn't feel a  _thing_. All he felt was an overwhelming numbness that filled him up and left him empty.  _Ironic really_ , Ethan thought bitterly.

He threw the cleaning cloth carelessly in the bath when he was done and wrapped the towel more securely around himself. For the first time since coming home he stood and turned to face himself in the mirror.

His eyes and nose were red and slightly swollen from crying. He was pale and looked a bit ill, but at the same time, it didn't look like him. He didn't recognise himself beneath all the pain and hurt. He didn't recognise the man stood before him as the same man who, not two months ago, went out with his brother and some friends from work for a couple of beers. The man who had laughed and joked, who - that very same day - had saved two patient's lives.

Ethan missed that man.

* * *

Some while later (the concept of time was unknown to Ethan right now), he made his way from the bathroom. His clothes were still on the floor in there but he didn't bother picking them up. Nor did he bother picking up his discarded keys he accidentally stepped on, and it didn't even cross his mind that he needed to eat - or at least drink - something.

He slowly and tiredly made his way into his bedroom, not even so much as glancing into what used to be Cal's room, dropped the towel onto the floor and changed into some pyjamas.

He crawled into bed, feeling his head rest against the pillow, and wished that he could wake up tomorrow with this all to have been a bad dream. And if that can't happen, his second wish was to not wake up at all.


	23. Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Normality is an illusion, created by a conservative culture to control behaviour." ― Merlyn Gabriel Miller, Sex, Death, Drugs Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* Two chapters within a month?! A new record for me since 2015! (Okaaayyy so I'm a little smug that I managed to do this... forgive me.) Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, they never fail to make me happy!

_Monday, 27 October 2014_

As was par, sleep didn't come easy for Ethan. His bad day turned into a bad night, his daymare into a nightmare that left Ethan sweating and shaking when he finally woke. And as he did, the urge to call out for Cal as he did as a child rose up within him.

But he wasn't a child anymore and Cal had left him.

He sat up, still shaking as the remnants of Cal dying in his nightmare started to fade away. The blood on his hands in his dream was no less metaphorical than physical, having been the one who killed Cal with that godforsaken razor Ethan had done so much damage to himself with.

The sheets were underneath his arms, cuts old and new rested on them. Ethan was disgusted with himself, even more so when the urge to scratch away the first layer of healing knawed at him.

His tears had all but dried up last night, so now all Ethan could feel if he focused hard enough was nothing. He was empty and wanted nothing more than to slide back under his covers and fall back asleep. But he'd learnt his lesson and knew that if he did, the nightmares would only continue.

 _I can get through this_ , Ethan said to himself.

_No, you can't. You're weak. Pathetic. Dirty._

_I just have to be normal,_ he told himself, throwing back the covers from his legs and making his way onto shaky feet, still feeling the aftershocks of the nightmare.

Dizziness started to worm its way into his head and all he could see in front of him were dancing black spots. He (not so gracefully) thumped down onto the floor and put his head in between his knees, waiting for it to pass.

 _And if I want to be normal, the first step is eating._ Ethan, now having risen from his spot on the floor feeling more steady, took in his dishevelled appearance in the mirror in front of him.  _And then shower._

Ethan hadn't anticipated how difficult it was to eat. He stared at his bowl of cornflakes, spoon resting on the side of his bowl, and tried to quell his stomach. It was flip-flopping inside of him, churning up half a mug of coffee he'd just drank (he had to keep himself awake somehow, right?) and protesting at the thought of food.

 _You don't deserve it. You almost killed that girl_.

That haunting voice, as much as Ethan wanted to deny it, was often right. Today was no exception. Allie was (if she hadn't died in the night - Ethan shuddered at the thought) lying up in PICU because of Ethan and his negligence. And Cal was sleeping on sofas because he didn't want to be around Ethan 24/7.

He weakly pushed the bowl away. His stomach rumbled.

_I need to be normal._

_You need to be punished._

_I was. I'm hungry. I'm eating._

And despite the war between his rumbling stomach and his nausea, despite the war between himself and the devil voice, the bowl of cornflakes was finished in 10 minutes.

And Ethan had the vaguest hope that maybe this meant things were turning around.

* * *

He let the cool water wash over him, opting for a less-that-warm shower to wake him up and freshen him up. The usual urge to turn the heat of the shower up to the maximum temperature wasn't there, and although it was replaced by the urge to pick at healing over cuts, he found he was able to ignore it (just).

And another thing he was able to do after his shower was pick up his dirty clothes from the floor of the bathroom and throw them in a dirty laundry pile, pick up his discarded glasses from the floor (thankfully still intact) and have fully clear vision again and make himself look semi-presentable for work.

The only problem, of course, is that he had not been quick exactly while getting ready for work. He was already 10 minutes late, without a charged phone and half an hour away from the ED.

Fantastic.

* * *

He spotted Cal by the reception desk and his first instinct was to call out to him, to greet him. But although his illusion of normality meant conversing with people, he knew he shouldn't be involved in family. He was a grenade around them, blowing up and ripping them apart.

This was one thing he wasn't allowing to be normal. He couldn't let anything happen to Cal.

But as he quickly walked past where his brother was, intending to reach the staffroom and get ready and be out on the shop floor before Connie came looking for him, he realised that footsteps were behind him, and he would recognise those footsteps anywhere.

"Hey, Caleb." Ethan tried to sound as relaxed as possible as he turned to face his brother in the staffroom.

"You're late."

"How very observant of you."

Cal folded his arms across his chest. "I tried calling you. You didn't pick up," he said tightly.

"Yeah, my phone was- is dead. Sorry."

"Are you okay? Just after yesterday..."

Ethan, touched by Cal's unnecessary (and surprising) concern, smiled lightly. "I'm fine, Caleb. How's Owen?"

"I don't know."

Ethan, glad of the subject change, kept with it. "You don't know?"

Cal seemed to relax more too, it seemed the conversation flowed a little more when it wasn't focused on the unwelcome topic of Ethan's wellbeing. "No. I mean I tried calling Aero this morning to check everything was okay but she didn't pick up. I can't think why."

Ethan shrugged. "Call back in your break? Maybe she was sleeping. "

"Yeah, maybe."

* * *

When she answered the phone (dangerously close to voicemail) she sounded out of breath and... giggly was the only was to describe it. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Cal!"

It was odd. Cal couldn't tell whether it was shock or embarrassed surprised. Like a child who'd had their hand in the biscuit tin and had suddenly been caught.

"I'm on my break... maybe we could meet up?"

"No," she said quickly. "Sorry I... I'm helping Owen right now and I said I wouldn't leave him. He's... a little unsteady because of his fall yesterday."

"Yes. About that. How is he?"

"He's doing okay. Little nervous but that's to be expected I guess." She spoke in a more matter-of-fact way than caring sister way, but it didn't bother Cal as much as it would do if it wasn't his girlfriend. Perhaps Aero was looking at the situation in a detached way to properly assess it. Cal knew he'd done that before. "Look, Cal. I'm sorry, babe, I have to go. Owen has my full attention today."

"Maybe I could buy you dinner tonight?"

"Full attention, all day. He's my brother, I'm sorry. I have to be here for him."

Cal, dejected, tried one more time, "I could pop over later, see how you're both doing?"

Aero sighed. "That's not a good idea, Cal. He's embarrassed, thinks he's weak... I'm sorry, babe. Another time?"

"Yeah," Cal mumbled, bringing the phone away from his ear and hanging up. Another boring night on the sofa of his friend's small house it seemed. And he would spend the time with Ethan, but that might be even more boring considering Ethan's a bag of fun at the moment.

Cal slipped his phone back in his pocket. His break was over anyway.

* * *

Ethan rubbed his eyes, trying to block out the image of the 9-year-old blood covered kid he was just in resus with. The boy's bones were sticking from his skin, cuts littered his body, a particularly bad one on his head bled profusely. He would never forget the image of seeing that boy's heart after he had to open him up. No-one should ever see 9-year-old's heart. No one should ever see a 9-year old in that position.

It wasn't Ethan's tangerine that was making him nauseous (though the thought of food still came pretty close).

He'd managed to avoid Cal for the majority of the day, terrified that at any moment he would do something, say something, to rip his only family from him. But that meant taking resus. Connie wasn't too happy with it but she didn't push and Ethan took it up. There weren't any particularly horrendous cases until that child came in, and it was Allie all over again.

A kid, seriously injured, and it was up to Ethan to save them.

"I heard what you did today, bro," Cal said as he patted Ethan on the back, roughly bringing Ethan from his thoughts.

Ethan placed his glasses back on him and looked to Cal's smiling face and warm eyes. "What did I do?"

Cal's hand fell from his back and he looked mildly surprised. "Saved that little boy. Heard he was close to death. But Superhero Hardy saved the day!" He laughed.

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, the devil voice reminding him that he had to get away from Cal before he did something  _bad_. "Anyone could have done it."

Cal shook his head. "I don't think so, Nibbles."

"Seriously, Cal, I didn't do anything special," Ethan pressed, unsure why Cal was so intent on praising him for something any decent doctor could have done one hundred times better.

"Okaaay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"You would be  _all_  over this case and telling me exactly what happened and how he was saved, yada yada."

"Surprisingly enough, Caleb, I wasn't the only person treating that kid and I only did was any other half decent doctor would have done." Ethan slid off the stool, grabbed his bag and coat, and walked out.

" _What about your tangerine?_ " Cal called after him.

"You have it!"

_I don't deserve it, not after freezing in resus. Not after nearly letting that boy die. Not after nearly letting Allie die._

_Not after causing Ash's death._

Who was Ethan kidding? He wasn't normal. Murderers and family ruiners ans people like him weren't normal.


	24. Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We never taste happiness in perfection, our most fortunate successes are mixed with sadness." - Pierre Corneille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews, I honestly could never express how much they mean to me. I just hope you continue to enjoy this!

_Tuesday, 28 October 2014_

Once Ethan arrived home last night, he tried to stomach dinner. He'd had little to eat the entire day and felt weak on his feet. Too tired to cook, he grabbed some bread, cheese and tomato and made himself a sandwich.

To try and distract himself from both the food and the haunting memories of the almost dead boy and Allie, he sat in front of the TV on his part of the sofa (Cal's part was staying conpletely untouched because Ethan knew how much Cal liked his place, crumbs and all) and put on whatever channel looked mildly appealing.

Despite his efforts, the television didn't distrsct him as much as he'd hoped for. Yet he still managed to finish the majority of his sandwich and he could grasp onto the feeling of normality that he had wanted to regain ever since he had left work.

Because even murderers needed to eat.

* * *

While not feeling completely refreshed, Ethan woke up feeling better than he had been recently. Not necessarily happy or even close to normality, but feeling like he had a purpose. The reason why he was given another chance at life (well, three) since his childhood.

He saved Allie (just about) and he saved that little boy yesterday. This was his purpose - to save the lives of children. He was saved as a child and now he was repaying the debt that he owed the staff that treated him. His job was to save lives.

Feeling newly invigorated, Ethan rose from his bed within 10 minutes of waking up. His phone wase charged in the night, leaving it on 100% now and his shower was warm and refreshing. He took no notice of the healing injuries on his body, vowing never to become that weak again. It was a slip up (everything seemed to be a slip up at the moment) and there was no need for another one.

(But that didn't mean he could bring himself to throw away the tool he used, he couldn't quite make it that far.)

When he sat down at the table with his bowl of cornflakes and morning coffee, he felt more able to eat them. He didn't need the TV or radio to distract him and simply recounted various medical procedures in his head, making sure he knew them well enough to be able to perform them without mistakes.

Because mistakes cost lives and Ethan wasn't going to let anyone die.

* * *

"Good morning, Nibbles!" Cal said brightly as Ethan passed.

Ethan paused his walking, turning to face Cal. He felt rearing to go this morning yet Ethan couldn't bring his face to comply into a smile to match Cal's bright greeting. "Good morning, Cal."

"You look... different."

"I look like I've had sleep." It wasn't quite the truth, having woken up halfway through the night after watching Cal die in the car crash. But Ethan wasn't even going to admit to himself that things were less than perfect in his head. "Best get on." He left the main area and walked briskly to the staffroom.

"Dr Hardy, you're needed in resus!"

And so the day began.

* * *

Again, Ethan wasn't necessarily  _happy_  but there was a certain glow he got from saving someone's life. This was an adult though, and although Ethan wanted to save everyone, Cal got to have a patient who was a child.  _Ethan_ wanted to save the chuld, needed to save children because he was a dying child once upon a time.

Though he was starting to wish he hadn't thought that at all because, crashing through to resus, were the paramedics with another patient. This one was Ethan's. And it hurt that it was a teenager who was beaten up.

His mind immediately went to Allie, lying up in PICU. Only two days ago she passed theough the ED, when Ethan failed to spot a near-fatal head injury.

But he couldn't focus on her right now; he had someone else's life to save.

"What have we got?"

"Right, this is Liam Chetty, 14. Beaten up outside his school by teens who were trying to mug him. Unconscious on scene -"

"Bay two, please."

"- suspected spinal injury. Intubated in the ambo because he wasn't maintaining his airway. GCS 5, pulse 180, BP 90 systolic, SATs 100. He's got a definite break to his lower left tib and fib -"

"On my count. 1, 2, 3."

"- and has a pretty nasty head injury."

"Poor kid's had a right beating," Jeff said after Dixie finished her recall. Ethan grimaced and nodded, looking down at Liam. His dusty blond hair was stained with blood, his face not faring much better. He didn't look good and Ethan wondered just how much bigger these muggers were, and whether it was a man hunt istead of people simply wanting his phone and wallet.

"I want to see him!" came a voice from outside resus. A moment later a young boy, around the same age, burst through the door. Charlie was behind him.

"This is Liam's boyfriend, um..."

"Gerry. Please, I just want to -" he stopped as he approached Liam's bed. "Is he gonna die?" he whispered.

Ethan gave Gerry his best reassuring smile. "We're going to do all we can for him."

"They came out of nowhere."

Ethan, only fully looking at Gerry now, realised he was holding a badly bruised wrist.

"Laim told his brother about me. The bastard set his friends on him. Pushed me out of the way."

Ethan could feel his heart physically hurting. So much for the 'mugging' then. He started to examine Liam, motioning for Charlie to take Gerry out.

"It's my fault. I told Liam to tell his brother. He said his brother wouldn't accept it... but he told him anyway. It's my fault." Gerry's voice cracked. "Please don't let him die."

"Come on, we need to get thag wrist seen to," Charlie said.

"Promise me you won't let him die.  _Please_.  _Promise_ me."

Ethan turned to Gerry, noticing Charlie giving him a warning look. "I promise." He ignored Charlie shaking his head. "Now I'll come and find you later, okay?"

Gerry nodded silently and Ethan turned back to Liam.

Robyn, who was also with him on this case, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "you shouldn't have done that."

But Ethan found nothing wrong with it. After all, he knew there was no way he could break his promise.

It made Ethan feel a certain kind of sadness when he learnt that Gerry was in the care system and Liam was being looked after by his homophobic brother and no-one else. Those two boys had enough to deal with without this too.

"You kept your promise?" Gerry said, gratefulness filling his voice and face.

"You can see him in a bit if you want to."

"Is he going to be okay? Like really, properly okay?"

And for the first time that day (and indeed a while), Ethan's smile felt genuine. "Yes."

* * *

 Ever since saving Liam, Ethan couldn't get the thought of Allie out of his head. He'd had no particularly challenging cases for the rest of the day and (thankfully) no deaths. He politely declined the offer of drinks after work as he was completely spent and had no desire to socialise with the amount of effort that would take, and was now sitting at the table, radio on, eating pasta and cheese. It was more or less tasteless and Ethan wasn't particularly hungry, but he'd saved two lives today and felt relatively good. Relatively because it would probably constitute as feeling 'not awful' in other people's books.

But as he lay down in his bed, fully ready to be unconscious for the next however many hours (or until he had another one of those damn nightmares), there was one thing bugging him. Unable to get the thought of Allie out of his head, as he closed his eyes he decided to go to PICU tomorrow and see how she was doing.


	25. Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Self-harm - the world will come at you with knives anyway. You do not need to beat them to it."   
> ― Caitlin Moran, How to Build a Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to panic-at-casualty for pointing out the typos in the last chapter xD! Honestly, I'm appalled at how bad I am at spelling at night. I proof-read it and everything and my brain still didn't pick up on them! Hopefully this chapter is better, but it's like two in the morning so I doubt it :D!

_Wednesday, 29 October 2014_

Cal rang the doorbell. His legs were shaking in anticipation as he waited, the flowers in his hand trembling along with him. He was full of nervous excitement about seeing Aero again. They'd talked on the phone last night for a considerable length of time and Cal wanted to surprise her this morning.

"It's open," came from inside, and Cal recognised that voice as Owen - Aero's brother and previously Cal's patient.

He walked through to the living room, disappointed to see no Aero there.

"Hey," Owen said from the sofa, pausing the television.

"Aero in?"

Owen looked at him, confused. "No. Is she expecting you?"

"Well, no. It's my day off and I thought I'd surprise her. I have flowers!"

Owen laughed, "she doesn't like roses. The flowers  _and_  the chocolates."

"Oh, what?" Cal sighed, his excitement bubbling down to almost nothing. "How are you, by the way? After your fall?"

"I'm fine. Just been sitting around really."

Cal nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Right, well. I guess I'll be off."

He went to leave, but Owen called him back.

"You're welcome to stay until she comes home. She didn't tell me where she was going but I'm sure she won't be long."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude..."

"Nonsense! 'Bout time I got to know my sister's boyfriend. After all, she's talked about you enough!"

Cal slumped onto the sofa. "All good, I hope."

"You wish, mate."

They both chuckled.

"So.  _Fast and Furious_  or  _Star Wars_?"

"Star Wars. Every time," Cal smiled.

* * *

Ethan didn't think he'd ever get used to waking up in the quiet. He hadn't lived with Cal long, but he had become used to hearing him in the morning. Annoying at the time, strangely endearing now it had gone. And dare he say it, he missed it.

Unfortunately, he was jolted awake from another nightmare two hours before he was planning to get up. Seeing no need to go back to sleep, he slipped his glasses on and trudged to the bathroom.

Maybe a bath would help calm his thumping heart.

* * *

Ethan wanted to know what was so great about food. Everything tasted like cardboard (and he would know what cardboard tasted like, thanks to one of Cal's more imaginative dares when they were children) and all the textures made his mouth feel weird.

Despite all this, Ethan knew he had to eat. He made himself two slices of toast with jam and a cup of tea. No sugar, lots of milk. The tea was easy enough to drink, the toast was a different matter. By the time he had struggled through the first slice, the second had gone cold and absorbed the jam. Soggy and cold toast on an already nauseas stomach was not a good mix, and Ethan had to stop halfway through as his gags nearly traansformed into sickness.

But he allowed himself to feel content for eating this morning, and for the first time in a while, he hadn't heard thay horrid little voice in the back of his mind, reminding him of what a horrible and toxic person he was.

Maybe things really were looking up.

* * *

Three  _Star Wars_  movies and a lovely lunch later, came the opening of the front door. Cal whipped his head around and Owen paused the start of the next movie.

"Owen! I'm home!"

Cal smiled upon hearing his girlfriend's voice. Owen tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to hide behind the armchair in the corner.

Cal, feeling like a mischievous child again, hid as fast as he could.

"Hey, Aero! Good day?"

"The best," she said, and her footsteps growing louder told Cal that she had entered the living room.

"Had fun lazing about, I see?"

"Oooh, the best," Owen said cheekily, mocking his sister. "So, where  _exactly_  did you go?"

"Now now, brother. That would be telling."

"You planning on having another long chat with your boyfriend tonight, again? Keeoing me awake half the night?"

Aero laughed and Cal, sensing this was the right time, jumped up from behind the chair. Aero didn't jump or scream or  _anything_.

Cal was fairly disappointed. "What?" he said when he spotted her looking at him like he was an idiot. "What did I miss?"

"I knew you were there, stupid. The roses on the table, the two plates as well. Not to mention I could see your head sticking out." She smiled. "Come here, you" she said, holding her arms out to hug him.

* * *

The day was average so far. He'd been put on minors and luckily none of them were too bad. Unlike Allie, none took a turn for the worse and unlike Allie, they were all discharged.

He'd had no breaches and no difficult patients and had even been praised by Mrs Beauchamp on his patient turnover rate.

Unfortunately for him, though, the underlying fear that he was going to mess up still knawed at him. It stopped him from being able to stomach lunch and he'd just settled on a banana instead. Coffee was also becoming a part of him, keeping him awake and alert. He still refused to acknowledge, even to himself, that these nightly terrifying dreams were something to be concerned about. So what if they kept him awake or made him terrified to sleep? He was coping.

He was fine.

Of course, Ethan would find it easier to believe if it weren't for the constant reminder that he had healing injuries. It had been a couple of days since he'd last hurt himself (okay so maybe he had to dig his nails into his palms earlier today when his patien collapsed because he was so useless in dealing with her) but the wounds were itchy and rubbing on his clothing.

Funny how unwelcome it was now.

But he was okay, of course he was. Only a couple of hours left of his shift and then he could see Allie and maybe even sit with her. Ethan had a good feeling about it and even dared to hope that she was awake.

* * *

With that same good feeling inside him, the end of his shift marked the time he could  _finally_ see how Allie was doing. He couldn't find it in himself to look forward to it exactly, but he was ready to see her. Hopefully awake and doing well.

He was still in his scrubs (he didn't want to delay any longer) as he made his way down the corridor of PICU. He spotted a man he recognised as the doctor who took over Allie's care, and walked up to him.

"Um, hello. Sorry to bother you, I'm Ethan Hardy -" he shook the doctor's hand "- I treated Allie Evans in the ED on Sunday. She was transferred here and I was just looking for an update on her condition?"

"Allie Evans?" the doctor said, as if the name had bee dragged from his throat.

Ethan nodded once. "Yes, that's right."

The man before him had a sad look in his eye and he looked at Ethan sympatheticly. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, Dr Hardy but... but she died yesterday afternoon."

Ethan stumbled back into a wall. "S-she's dead?"

"We did everyth -"

"I've got to go," Ethan rushed out. "I-I'm sorry. I've got to go."

He didn't turn back.


	26. Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Some friends don't understand this. They don't understand how desperate I am to have someone say, I love you and I support you just the way you are because you're wonderful just the way you are. They don't understand that I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me. I am so demanding and difficult for my friends because I want to crumble and fall apart before them so that they will love me even though I am no fun, lying in bed, crying all the time, not moving. Depression is all about If you loved me you would." ― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

He'd collapsed on the sofa as soon as he'd walked through the door. His hands hadn't stopped shaking the entire drive home and every bump in the road increased his levels of nausea.

Allie Evans was dead.

 _Dead_.

Allie was dead.

Ash was dead. Allie was dead. Liam... well Liam could have died.

Ethan should have died.

Not Ash. Not Allie. Ethan. Ethan should be dead.

He felt a sting on his arm and looked down. Beads of blood started to form over previously healing cuts. He glanced to his fingernails. Blood was underneath them.

What did any of it matter anymore? He was already broken, damaged,  _dead inside_. Soulless. What did a few droplets of blood matter?

He deserved to be punished. He deserved to suffer.

Ethan let his feet carry him to the kitchen. He knew where Cal put the alcohol and was sure he didn't take it with him.

Once opening the cupboard door and seeing it, Ethan didn't waste a moment. Within seconds the bottle was open and Ethan was drinking it. Blood appeared on the bottle from his hands and his arm stung.

It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

He stumbled to the bathroom, feeling too weak to walk upright and in a straight line. He kept sipping from the bottle, hoping it would soon give him the relief he craved.

His eyes travelled to the side of the bath. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care that he might regret it. He didn't care about scars. He needed,  _deserved_  pain. Deserved punishment.

But as Ethan dragged the blade across his skin, all he felt was relief.

* * *

_Thursday, 30 October 2014_

Mrs Beauchamp's voice floated through the phone.

"Mrs Beauchamp -" Ethan coughed for effect "- I'm terribly sorry. I seem to have caught a bad cold and won't be able to come into work."

He could hear her sigh. _Sorry for being such a disappointment_. "Do you have any idea how long you'll be off for?"

He coughed once more. "No, I'm sorry. I'll just have to wait until this clears up."

He half-listened to her response and hung up, letting his sore arm drop his phone onto the floor. He was lying down, face to the side, in bed, too lethargic to move.

He wasn't sure how much he drank last night and he could only tell how destructive he'd been to himself from where the pain was. It hurt to move. His head throbbed, his arms and thighs stung and his brain was fogged up.

_Be lucky you're alive. Allie and Ash weren't so fortunate._

To tired to cry, Ethan just let the tears roll down his face.

* * *

_Monday, 03 October 2014_

He did the same thing he had done since Thursday. Rang up Mrs Beauchamp to tell her he was still sick. He had a bad cold and today a migraine has developed. But he should be fine soon. She believed him.

Ethan just did what he usually did now. What he had done for the past three days. Lie in bed, trying to sleep and failing. If he did sleep , he got nightmares. If he didn't... well he was living in his own nightmare.

He wasn't even ashamed anymore that his injuries had more than doubled. Over the same healing ones. If he lost focus for long enough in his own head, his nails would pick at the scabs, drawing blood and - more importantly - pain.

But maybe the blood was a good thing. Maybe it would help get rid of the evil inside him.

Yet Ethan knew that no-one could get rid of the evil inside him. He was born that way.

Occasionally, when he mustered up enough energy, he trudged to the kitchen. Most of the food in the fridge was going off now and Ethan didn't want to step outside his flat and possibly kill someone else. He made himself some pasta but, as was the usual thing now, barely ate half of it.

It wasn't like he deserved food anyway. And he didn't need it. He wasn't worth it.

* * *

_Thursday, 06 November 2014_

Ethan hardly believed that he'd managed to take a week off work with no question. The days all merged into one though, the only indicator that time was passing were his daily phone-in-sick calls. At least he was good at something.

No-one had even bothered to check in on him. To ask him if he was okay.

Not even his brother.

That's because you don't deserve it _. They can all see you for who you really are. You should be the dead one and they all know it._

Ethan knew it too, but he still hoped they maybe he was worth something.

But if anything proved that voice right, it was that a week into him not turning up for work marked a week since anyone had bothered to talk to him.

* * *

_Sunday, 09 November 2014_

He stared at the ceiling. He had managed to drag himself out of bed for a shower yesterday but he didn't allow himself warm water. That was for good people, not people like him. But now he'd just woken up from another nightmare and had brought his covers right up to his chin. His body ached, and not just because of the physical injuries. He had barely eaten enough, a meagre portion of food a day, and he was being constantly reminded of how worthless he was.

At least he'd had a couple if missed calls from someone. At least someone cared enough to phone him.

But he didn't allow himself to answer it or to even look at the caller ID. Whoever it was would be better off without him. Everyone had already proved that. Ethan wasn't worth caring for, or even loving. He was a curse. He'd destroyed lives and families and  _himself_.

No-one deserved to talk to a dirty, disgusting, pathetic  _freak_.

He shut his eyes and, not for the first time, wished for death.

_Don't think you're getting out of it that easily. You deserve to suffer._

The click of the front door didn't spur him to open his eyes. Nor did footsteps around the flat. Nor did the calling out of his name.

He wished whoever it was would just go away. They were in danger being around Ethan.

However, as soon as his bedroom door was opened, he opened his eyes and looked at the person stood there. Before Ethan could say anything, the person spoke.

"Why aren't you in work?"


	27. Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The simple act of caring is heroic." - Edward Albert

_Sunday, 09 November 2014_

Ethan's heart leapt out of his chest and pure panic set in.

 _I can't let him see the cuts. I can't. He has to go. I have to make him go. Oh Cal, please go._   _You have to go._

Cal stared at him, expecting an answer. Ethan wasn't going to give it to him... at least, not the true one.

"Go away, Cal." Ethan coughed. "I'm sick."

"I've seen you sick, Ethan. I've seen you throwing up your guts and I've also seen you with a cold. I've seen you hungover and I've seen you ill. You are  _not_  sick."

Ethan, still keeping the covers up to his chin, wearily said, "why are you here, Cal?"

"You haven't been in work! You haven't answered my calls or, or replied to my texts! I've been worried. All I got to go on was what Connie told me when I asked her. And had to ask her. I couldn't even hear from my own brother that he was sick!" Cal glared at him. "Not that you  _are_  sick."

Cal approached the left side of the bed. Ethan immediately shifted towards the right. "I don't want you catching it, Cal. They can't have two doctors off sick."

It didn't deter Cal. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to Ethan's forehead. Ethan tried to move away but his position was awkward and couldn't.

"You don't have a temperature."

"I had some paracetamol."

"Your nose isn't red or sniffy."

"Yes well, I've passed that stage."

"Your throat doesn't sound hoarse or sore."

"I'm getting better."

Cal sighed in annoyance. "For goodness sake, Ethan. You're not ill."

" _I'm getting better._ "

"Get up," Cal said, rising himself. "Out of bed, come on. Up. We're going to work."

Ethan turned away. "No."

"Get up or I'll make you get up."

Ethan could feel his hands start to shake.  _Cal can't see. Oh God no. No, no, no!_  "Feel too ill."

"Ethan!"

"Shh, I've got a headache coming on."

He could tell Cal was becoming frustrated with him.  _That's all you do. Get on people's nerves. Tear families apart. No wonder Cal moved out._

"Well the paracetamol should sort that out," he said with sarcasm.

Ethan, knowing that if he didn't give in Cal would pull the covers off his bed, said, "fine. I'm getting up. But only if you leave."

"Eth -"

"We may be brother's, Caleb, but I have far too much modesty for you to see me in my underwear."

Cal blew out a laugh. "Fair enough. I'll make you some breakfast."

"No, it's okay."  _I don't deserve any. I've probably made you late enough. I shouldn't have any when there are much better people out there than me._

"You look like you're about to keel over, and you're lying in bed."

"That's because I'm sick," he protested, keeping up the more-or-less useless façade for just a little longer.

"Yeah, yeah. See you in 5."

Ethan waited until he heard the door click behind him and Cal's footsteps becoming quieter. In his youth, he'd developed quite a skill to know when people were coming nearer to him, and he hadn't lost it. Despite not needing it in the years after he was a teenager, he still had it within him. Cal would joke about it. Call it his superpower. Ethan knew it was just being extra careful.

Satisfied with how far away Cal was now, Ethan pushed the covers back and slowly dragged himself up. His body felt weak (maybe Cal was right about the breakf -)

_You don't deserve it._

Ethan was lucky, he supposed, to have the sense to hide the empty alcohol bottles and cans under his bed. Even he couldn't stand to look at them, so now it meant Cal wouldn't know about them. He knew his bathroom wasn't the cleanest though and was sure there was blood in there.

Cal didn't have to know.

* * *

"And he finally emerges from his cave," Cal joked, seemingly more light-hearted than he had been before.

Ethan only nodded, slumping into a chair. He felt too weak to stand much longer. Instinctively he pulled his sleeves over his hands. There was no need, his healing (and almost fresh, he was ashamed to admit) injuries didn't go past the middle of his lower arm so there was no chance they would be spotted, but he was so embarrassed to be so weak, so scared of Cal finding out, that even the impossible things made him paranoid.

"Now you didn't have much in the way of food -"

"I haven't been shopping. Been too ill."

Cal rolled his eyes at the last part but continued on. "But I found some cereal and tea bags! The milk is -" he sniffed it "- waaaay past it's sell-by-date, so you'll just have to go without."

Cal plunked the bowl full of cereal in front of him and finished off making two teas, before sitting down with Ethan.

He felt sick looking at the breakfast. Millions of thoughts were racing through his head. Half good: telling him he should eat, basking in the company he had with his brother. The other half? Bad. Very, very bad.

Ethan shivered, goosebumps forming on his skin.

Cal sipped his own tea and sat forward in his chair. Just as Ethan was taking his first mouthful of food, he started to speak. "Are you going to tell me why you haven't been in work?"

Ethan, caught by surprise, swallowed quickly. He had a gulp of his own tea, the cereal too dry to go without. "I've been -"

"Ill, I know," Cal interrupted. "But... Ethan, look. I know you haven't had the best of times since the crash and Ash's death. And I know what happened to your patient, um... Annie? No, wait. Allie?"

Ethan nodded stiffly, focusing his eyes on the cereal instead of Cal. "I know it hasn't been easy for you... no, let me finish Ethan. I know it hasn't been easy and I wouldn't expect it would have been. If you want to... talk at all, you can. I mean if you want some company instead of hiding away in here, we could go out? Or, or something."

Ethan had another mouthful of his breakfast to avoid saying anything. A part of him wanted to spill his deepest darkest secrets. The other part knew it was too dangerous. Cal would just desert him.  _I don't deserve a brother like him_.

"Eth, the reason why you haven't been in work; I'm not saying I don't believe you've been ill... I just don't believe you've been solely  _physically_  ill."

Ethan gulped, eating more of his cereal and drinking more of his tea.

"Am I correct?"

He stayed silent, not trusting himself to speak.

"You don't have tell me. Just nod or shake your head."

Ethan shook his head, took a deep breath in and stood up with a fake smile plastered on his face. "Come on, Cal. We're late enough already."

"Ethan, I -"

"I'm okay, Cal. I appreciate the concern but I'm fine. The paracetamol is kicking in and I think I've got rid of most of this blasted cold. Come on, let's go."

Cal stood too. He sighed. "Okay. I'm just going to nip too the loo."

"No!" Ethan burst out. Cal looked shocked. "You can't. It's... it's blocked. Something wrong with the pipes. I was going to call a plumber today."

"Right," Cal said, looking a little suspicious. "I'll go at work."

* * *

_Monday, 10 November 2014_

He was on his break, instructed to take an early one by Connie because he was "still recovering". He was tempted to just drive straight home, but Cal had insisted on driving him to work so he couldn't go home without Cal. Of course, he could probably walk it in 45 minutes, but he was too lethargic.

He also considered just not going back inside. Or maybe getting Cal's car keys and then stay in the car. But the shift was  _far_ from over and sitting in a car for a day wasn't appealing.

His bed was.

Being confined to cubicles gave him a little release. Not as much as being at home in his nice, cosy bed, but more than being in resus. It was an ED so he was always busy, but it was also a Monday. A quiet day compared to the weekend.

Lofty, Connie and Cal seemed to be keeping an eye on him. It would have made him feel a little better to be cared about had it not been so uncomfortable for him. He had tried to tell Cal to leave him alone, but Connie had told them that they were doing cubicles together. Lofty always seemed to be with him, and although Ethan had tried grabbing Robyn for a patient, Lofty had stepped in instead.

Ethan didn't think Lofty's and Cal's constant chats were strictly professional.

He was leaning against the side-wall of the hospital, a coffee in his hand, dreading the rest of the shift. The worst part was when it was over, he couldn't go home to bed. Cal (having driven him here) also suggested they go food shopping after the shift.

The only comforting thought was he could crawl back into bed at the end of it.

Luckily it was a chilly day too, so no-one questioned his rolled-to-just-under-his-elbows sleeves. Ethan doubted anyone noticed they had gone from above to below his elbows. It still made him nervous - one slip up and  _that's it_.

Over.

But, no. That wasn't going to happen. He took a sip of his coffee and stared out at the carpark. He spotted his patient from earlier - a nice(ish) man who'd come in with a broken wrist. Ethan had discharged him just before his break.

Having nothing else interesting to look at (after all, how interesting were parked cars) he continued watching his patient. He was approaching someone - a woman standing against a wall.

Then he looked closer. It was Cal's girlfriend.

The man stood in front of Aero.

And then she kissed him.


	28. Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool." - Stephen King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan for this was to update it every two days, but for the next week and a half I won't update this because I want to focus on my other multi-chapter 'His Mind's Darkness'. But I promise that this story will be updated every day/every two days (I'm yet to decide) after the next week has passed. I hope that's okay!
> 
> Also, there's a plot hole (I mean this is being written over the course of over two years so I'm not surprised) that I'd like to address. Ethan was scared to drive a car and then one day he was absolutely fine. So let's just pretend he overcame his fear somewhere before Ash's birthday party xD.

Cal was concerned. Ethan had avoided him for most of the shift and Cal was pretty sure he spent most of it hiding away in the staffroom and the bathroom and the on-call room. He didn't seem happy. He didn't seem like Ethan.

And now, on the way home from the supermarket, Cal was starting to notice the helpless look in his eyes. The way that Ethan stared out of the front windshield as if he was looking at a car wreck that he couldn't stop.

Cal wasn't an idiot. He knew Ethan didn't have a cold or a migraine or whatever lie he spun for Connie and he knew Ethan was far from alright. He hadn't been himself ever since the crash and Cal was observant enough to notice things going wrong for Ethan. Ash dying, for example. That seemed to be the first straw. Cal really should have seen the warning sign when Ethan didn't attend his funeral.

Then there was how Ethan had asked how to deal with guilt. And while he didn't realise at the time, Cal was slowly starting to guess that maybe Ethan wasn't so free of guilt over Ash's death as he made out. Of course, Ella publically blaming him would have had an effect, but Cal knew it was way before that when Ethan started not acting himself.

And there was him taking time off work with stupid excuses, or when he would trudge out of his room looking like he'd had minimal sleep. Then there was the pleading look in his face, when his words were bare faced lies, when Cal was moving out. Maybe Cal  _wanted_ to think Ethan wanted him there, maybe that's why he brushed passed it, but maybe Ethan didn't want him to leave at all.

And he had heard about Allie's death and he knew that Ethan failed to save a patient that was Cal's and then Ethan took a week off work with not so much as a text to tell Cal.

So yes, Cal was concerned.

When he saw Ethan this morning, when everything finally fell into place, he knew he should have been concerned. The flat wasn't to the standard of Ethan - it wasn't messy, exactly, but it should have been cleaner. He saw the top of a beer bottle underneath Ethan's bed (which Ethan would usually be a stickler for recycling) and the food situation.

He knew his brother. He hadn't lived with him for long recently but he knew Ethan was always conscious to keep food in the fridge. So he was more than a little surprised when he had found barely anything. It worried him. He wondered how long Ethan had been without food and how much Ethan was eating.

And he wasn't blind. Ethan  _paled_  when Cal placed breakfast in front of him. He'd seen that look before. That Ethan knew he had to eat it but every bite was a struggle. That he had to force down everything and it was  _hard_.

And then at work, Ethan wasn't on top of his game. He had to examine Ethan's patients and watch him like a hawk because he wasn't fully  _there_. And he asked Lofty to keep an eye on him too. He knew he could trust Lofty - had already done when he discovered their childhood - and he was a good friend, so if Cal wasn't around he knew Ethan would still be backed up and looked after from a distance.

He supposed he was being a little selfish. He wanted his brother's company - he missed it a lot - so decided to go food shopping with him. Ethan probably wouldn't have done it of his own accord. But he also just wanted to spend some time with Ethan. Talk, maybe. About random things. Cal wanted to share his relationship with his brother, wanted to tell him more about Aero and Owen. But he also wanted to listen to Ethan talk. About anything and everything.

But he also wanted to know what was really going on. Because Ethan wasn't ill with a cold.

Perhaps it was denial before. Not wanting to admit Ethan might be getting ill again. Perhaps that's why it took him so long to get it. But now he had got it and he was  _going_  to help.

"We're home, Ethan," Cal said gently after noticing Ethan not move once he'd parked the car. Ethan, without looking at him, nodded and slowly got out.

Cal was unnerved by the silence, of course he was. He barely got two words out of Ethan tonight. But they had the rest of the evening to talk so Cal didn't push.

With a combined effort they managed to get all the shopping up to the flat. Cal did most of the unpacking as Ethan's movements were slow and sort of shaky. Cal told him to sit down afterwards and Ethan, strangely, did as he was told with no objection. Cal brought a cup of tea over for him and one for himself before sitting next to him on the sofa.

He stayed silent and hoped it would spur Ethan into talking. After a few minutes had passed Cal was worried he never would. But then, as he had hoped, Ethan started to speak.

"I need to tell you something."

This was it, Cal could feel it. Ethan would say how he was struggling and needed help and Cal would help him with everything he had. Cal turned so his full body was facing Ethan.

"I saw something today."

_Wait, what?_

Ethan didn't look at him. "I was on my break and um... I saw my patient. Well he wasn't my patient anymore because I had discharged him. And I saw him walking towards a girl. A woman. Okay so, I saw him and I was watching him because I had noth -"

"Spit it out, Ethan." Cal was growing impatient.

"I saw him kiss someone."

Cal rolled his eyes. He had hoped for Ethan to seek support for his obvious struggles, not talk about what he saw while people-watching. "Ethan, I -"

"Cal, he kissed Aerona."

Suddenly, what Cal had to say seemed unimportant. He was silent for moment.  _He kissed Aero. He kissed Aero. He kissed Aero._ "He kissed Aero?"

Finally, Ethan looked at him. The same helpless look he had in his eyes as he did in the car. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head vigorously, his mind racing. "You saw wrong."

Then Ethan shook his head.

"No! This is some sort of payback, isn't it? For me coming this morning and interrupting you bunking off!"

"Caleb, please just listen -"

"There's nothing to listen to, Ethan! Either he threw himself at her or you saw someone else that looked like my girlfriend. Because I know Aero would  _never_ kiss someone else.  _Ever_." Cal forcefully put his tea on the coffee table and stood up. "I don't know what's going on in that stupid head of yours but it must be pretty sick to make you want to ruin my relationship."

Ethan stood too, both their teas untouched. "It was her, I swear! I wouldn't lie about this!"

Cal couldn't believe Aero would ever cheat on him. He  _loved_ her and he knew that she loved him. And Ethan wasn't well right now. And he knew which person to believe. "Right now, Ethan, I think you would. And that's the worst thing. You won't talk to me about what's going on up here -" he tapped his temple "- but whatever it is needs to be sorted. Because trying to break up my girlfriend and me is crossing the line. Bunking off work? Fine. Ignoring me? I can handle it. But you don't bring Aero into your mess,  _okay_?"

Cal ignored the tears building up in Ethan's eyes in favour of the anger building within himself.

"She  _did_  kiss someone else, Cal!"

"Maybe you saw what you wanted to see.  _Maybe_ you're so sick of being alone that you wanted me to be alone too." He laughed spitefully. "That's it, isn't it? You don't like how I'm not alone anymore. You want me to crawl back into this flat _alone_. Like my pathetic little brother."

"Please, Cal..."

"Save it, Ethan," he spat. "I'm gone. Have fun tonight, little brother.  _Alone_."

He stormed out. He caught a flash of Ethan's heartbroken face as he left but pushed down the image and tried to ignore it. He wouldn't - couldn't believe that Aero would do that. He knew her well and he loved her. And he believed that Ethan was in such a place mentally that his view was skewed, that he thought this was the only way to get through to Cal. Cal almost wished he'd dealt with Ethan in a calmer way and talked things through. Helped him see that he's not alone. He shouldn't have lost his temper.

And he hated himself because there was a tiny part of him that thought maybe, maybe Ethan was telling the truth. And if he was, he could have just severely hurt his mentally ill brother.


	29. Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved." - George MacDonald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha whoops... yep, I admit it, I said I would leave this for around a week and a half while I focused on my other multichapter, and yes, it's been a month - but hey, it's not been half a year! It took longer than I expected to complete His Mind's Darkness as I suddenly became very busy and kind if unmotivated, but now I only have one multichapter left! So I can focus on this one. Will probably try to update every two days, but updates may be more or less frequent than that. But *fingers crossed* this will be regularly updated from now on.
> 
> Anyway I hope this (kind of long whoops) chapter makes up for the wait!

_Monday, 10 November 2014_

Ethan watched Cal leave. It felt like watching his whole world crumble to dust in front of him while he could do nothing. He'd been putting off telling Cal for the whole day, worried this was the reaction he would get.

Actually that was a lie. He didn't think Cal would be like that. So blind to the truth. So deaf to Ethan. So like  _Cal_!

And it hurt. It hurt that he didn't believe him and it hurt even more that Cal thought Ethan was doing this because he was lonely. He wasn't lonely. At least, Cal shouldn't know that he was.

 _It's your fault anyway_ , Ethan thought snidely as he heard the door slam shut behind his brother. You were the one that left me.  _If I'm lonely you're the only person to blame._

And then he hated himself because the only person to blame was standing alone in an empty flat.

He thumped down onto the sofa and curled into the corner of it, trying to make himself as small as possible. He had no tears, no matter how much he desperately wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and wail until his throat was burning and he felt sick and his head hurt, but nothing came.

Slowly and carefully he rose from the sofa, dragging his feet along to the bathroom. He didn't give a  _damn_  anymore. He had no-one left to care about him, and he'd stopped caring about himself long ago.

As he locked the door behind him (by force of habit), his eyes immediately found his new favourite object.

He stared at it with hatred, but the hatred was only for himself. He didn't give a damn anymore. So he did what he knew would stop everything, even if it was for a minute or two.

* * *

_Tuesday, 11 November 2014_

It was like the past week, but in reverse. Instead of Ethan ignoring Cal, it was Cal ignoring Ethan. Except with one key different factor: Ethan didn't hate Cal but Cal hated Ethan.

_And who could blame him?_

Ethan ignored his own torturous mind in favour of following Cal to the staffroom. He seriously considered calling in sick this morning but Cal meant more to him and he managed to drag his tired and aching body out of bed and into the shower, deliberately ignoring old and new injuries.

Once both of them were in the room, Ethan shut the door behind him. Cal was by the lockers.

"Cal…" Ethan stared at the back of his brother's head, waiting for the answer. "Caleb." Cal only continued getting his scrub top on, face firmly towards his open locker. " _Please_ , Caleb. I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you," Cal snapped, turning around suddenly.

And Ethan almost wished his didn't. When he couldn't see Cal's face, he couldn't see what Cal was feeling. But now he could, and he hated that it was hatred mixed with, mixed with what almost could be described as disappointment.

If there was one thing worse than hatred, disappointment definitely took the top spot.

"Get out of my way." He didn't walk towards Ethan. He just stood still, waiting for Ethan to vacate the path in front of him. But Ethan didn't come all the way to work to be ignored again.

_Why are you even bothering? He's better off without you._

"I didn't lie…" He hadn't expected it to sound so meek once it had passed his lips. The phrase had gone round and round in his head last night. He prepared himself to say it, like once he did Cal would have to concede.

The short laugh that left Caleb's mouth sounded harsh and alien. "Yeah right." His eyes blazed. "Now move."

Again, Cal didn't move at all, waiting for Ethan to move. Like even getting within one meter of Ethan would poison him.

_You already have. You've damaged him, hurt him._

"Caleb, please. I honestly didn't. She did kiss someone else and I saw it happen!"

He could see Cal grind his teeth, clenching his jaw. "I swear, Ethan. If you don't move."

Ethan waited for the threat, the consequence that never came. He almost wanted one. He wanted Cal to lash out, he wanted Cal to scream and shout at him, maybe to prove his head right or maybe just because he wanted his brother back, not this stone cold replica.

He felt his lower lip tremble as he prepared the next question, because he was afraid. Terrified of the answer he could - and probably would get. "Why don't you believe me?"

And it seemed the impact it had on Ethan was just as great as it was for Cal. For a moment, his eyes softened. His shoulders slacked ever so slightly. But it was replaced quickly by what was there before. "Because I know my own girlfriend."

"Better than your own brother?" he asked bitterly, regretting it as soon as he heard it with his own ears. He hadn't meant to say it, because he knows what Cal will say.

"Yes. I do. Because I don't even know who you are anymore!" His body swayed towards the door. Ethan knew, he  _knew_ he wanted to leave. But if Cal wasn't going to force his way past Ethan, Ethan wasn't going to allow it.

"What's that meant to mean?" He wished he hadn't said it, because once Cal started to talk, it was like the words were tumbling out of his mouth, never to stop.

Cal threw his hands up in the air. "God, Ethan! Look at yourself! You're not well, and I mean  _seriously_  not well."

Ethan's breath caught in his throat, "I'm fine," he said in a small voice.

Cal huffed. "You can't even talk to me about it. Your own  _brother_. You've changed Ethan." He shook his head. "You're not right, you're off. Everything about you is off! And then, instead of - oh, I don't know -  _talking to me_ , you make up some stupid lie to break me and my girlfriend up!"

"I wasn -"

"Yes you are, Ethan. You're lying, I can see it written all over your face. You know what the worse thing is, Ethan? It  _hurts_ like  _mad_  to know that you'd rather hurt me than confide in me. All I've ever done is try to help you. Even when we were younger, all I ever did was help you! But ever since, God ever since Ash died you've… Jesus, Ethan, what is wrong with you?"

Ethan could do nothing. He couldn't move and he couldn't even interrupt Cal. And that meant Cal was free to continue his slaughter and all Ethan could do was listen.

"Everything it seems. You're skipping work with absolutely shit excuses, you're job. You know, the one you get paid to do. The one you get money from, which you need to buy food - which you haven't done for days. I mean what were you doing? You were  _fine_. You weren't sick with whatever you told Connie, which means you were barely eating. God, Ethan! Do you know how unhealthy that is? How bad that is? And you ignore me for days, I was worried sick, Ethan! You make mistakes in work, that's on the rare occasion you do turn up. I mean look at Allie! What even caused you to neglect her care?"

Ethan didn't even have the energy to remind him that he was trying to resuscitate Cal's patient.

"And then she dies!"

Ethan feels his eyes fill with tears, because even Cal blamed him.

"Ethan, I'm not blaming you. But you could have handled that case a lot better." Cal sighed. "Until you tell me what's wrong, why you lied… I'm sorry Ethan -" (though Ethan suspected he wasn't sorry at all) "- I can't forgive it. I can't just forgive you for making up some stupid lie about my girlfriend. That could have ruined us. She's the best thing that's happened to me in a long,  _long_  time."

_Which means it's even better than you being alive after that crash…_

"You nearly messed up my life Ethan. And the worse thing? You're still intent on lying to me!" He sighed. "I'm going to give you one more chance, Ethan. One more chance to tell me the truth."

His brain went into momentary civil war. One side, urging him to lie to Cal. Tell him that Aero never kissed anyone, that Ethan lied. That Cal was right. But his pride, his sense of morality, his hope that maybe, maybe this meant Cal might believe him, made the words tumble out of this mouth before he had a chance to stop them. "She kissed someone else."

Cal's eyes hardened. "Get out of my way."

Ethan almost considered standing his ground, but he knew it was a lost cause. In silence, he stood aside, and in silence, Cal walked out of the staffroom. And just like last night, Ethan was stood staring at the retreating form of his brother, his heart breaking.

* * *

_Friday, 14 November 2014_

Their shift pattern was different, Ethan noticed. Cal was on completely different shifts and Ethan knew it wasn't by accident. And it hurt. It really, really hurt. Ever since his conversation with, no - verbal beating by Cal, Ethan couldn't stop replaying it in his head. Every time, his stomach churned. Every time, he felt the tears threaten to fall. Every time, his nails went to his palms, his skin to relieve himself. And every time, the tingling, the burning returned. And every day when he came home from work, like clockwork, he desperately went straight for the bathroom. And he never came out uninjured.

So this morning, when he went through the daily  _Pros And Cons of Going Into Work_  list in his head, he was really struggling to find reasons to go in.

His pros were that he could have another chance to see Cal, to talk to him. But that has since been crossed off now they had different shifts. There were no other pros, but that was usually large enough to overshadow all of his cons. And he had a lot.

Then he thought of Connie, of how many days he'd taken off already. Of how many more he could take off without her getting suspicious, or have any chance of losing his job.

With a huge intake of breath, he rolled out of bed and trudged to his kitchen. Today, like all days, was going to be very long.

* * *

_Friday, 28 November 2014_

Two weeks. Two weeks of getting that damn silent treatment, just for telling the truth. Two weeks of watching Cal getting closer and closer to Aero after all she'd done was lie. It was the small things. After Ethan's shift, he'd watch Cal at the entrance to the ED, getting a goodbye kiss. Or he'd see them drive off together. Cal refused to even look at Ethan when Ethan saw them. Refused to acknowledge Ethan even existed anymore.

But it wasn't just two weeks of watching his relationship with his brother fall apart, it was two weeks of pure self-hatred. Two weeks of fingernails and blades and blood and guilt and shame and two weeks of just wishing he was brave enough to go that little bit deeper. That little bit more. Nick the vein. End it forever.

Because, after all, why shouldn't he? No brother, no friends, no worthwhile career. He went into medicine to help people. To make people better. But he was stuck to treating grazes on children's knees or sprained wrists. Time wasters and frequent flyers. He used to believe that was worthwhile. But how was it, when Ethan was only there because he couldn't be trusted anywhere else? If they weren't so short staffed Ethan knew he would get the sack immediately. Then what would he have? Nothing.

And to top it all off, it was his bloody birthday. And he intended to spend it lying in bed, trying to sink into the oblivion of sleep, hoping like he did every time that he wouldn't awaken from the bliss of unconsciousness. Because, no, he wasn't going to make this day even worse by going into work and seeing his brother leave the ED, or get told off by Connie, or let a patient down. He was going to spend it in the best way possible. Unconscious.

* * *

He blearily opened his eyes and stared at the red numbers on his clock. 11am. Which meant he'd only had half an hour's sleep before the doorbell rang. He opted to ignore it, knowing it would be someone advertising something. No-one else would come to his flat.

Not even Cal anymore.

The doorbell rang again and Ethan pulled the covers over his head, groaning. There was silence, and Ethan suspected they thought no-one was home.

It was only when he heard the key in the lock did he realise the person, Cal most likely, was only ringing the doorbell to be polite. Strange considering Cal wasn't polite but he was the only one with a key.

Then he hears footsteps, coming straight to his room. Ethan held his breath, hoping in vain that it would look like a lumpy duvet or something. But no more than a few seconds after his door was opened, his covers were pulled off him.

Suddenly Ethan was incredibly thankful he still had a clean pair of long-sleeved pyjamas that he pulled on last night.

"Happy birthday, bro!" Cal beamed. "You're officially 28!"

Silence. That was all he had for the past two weeks. Straight silence. And now Cal was standing above his bed with a grin and a balloon, acting like nothing had happened.

Well Ethan wasn't interested. "Go away," he mumbled, turning his back on Cal.

He felt a dip in the bed as Cal sat down. "I'm not just going to forget what happened, Ethan, but I'm willing to look past both that and the fact you called in sick again." He laughed. "Mainly because I'd be a hypocrite if I said you shouldn't pretend to be sick on your birthday just for a day off."

Ethan ignored him. He didn't want this, be didn't want Cal to be here. Cal hated him, loathed him. Ethan hurt Cal so much. "Please go."

He felt a warm hand in his shoulder. "I want a truce. A ceasefire. And end to this. I haven't been fair on you… I was, I was just angry. I'm sorry, Eth, I shouldn't have been so unkind to you."

He didn't want this! Well he did… but it meant Cal would want his apology for lying about Aero. But he didn't lie!

"Don't care." Which was a complete and utter lie, of course. It wasn't like he hasn't been replaying his annihilation over and over in his head for two weeks.

"Please, Ethan. I just want to celebrate your birthday."

Ethan shrugged, about to speak before being cut off by Cal's ringing mobile.

Cal got up immediately. "It's Aero, one sec."

This made Ethan turn his head and look sadly at Cal.

"Won't be a minute." He walked out, leaving Ethan strangely sad he was gone.

* * *

It was more than a minute. 18 to be precise. Ethan had turned over and stared at his clock the whole time. Cal said he wanted to be with Ethan, to celebrate his birthday, but he couldn't care enough to just ignore the call, or spend a minute on the phone.

So when he finally came back in, smiling like a lovesick idiot, Ethan knew what was coming.

"She's invited me over."

"Shut the door on your way out," Ethan said harshly.

"Ethan -" Cal sat down next to him "- I said no."

The momentary shock passed as soon as it came. "So what?"

"Nibbles, I want to spend the day with you. And you know what that means?"

Ethan shook his head, humouring him.

The wordless response was Cal showing Ethan the turning off of his phone. "No interruptions. It's just you and me today."

Ethan sat up, leaning on his elbow (and ignoring the way the fabric rubbed against cuts). "Really?" he said disbelievingly.

Cal smiled gently. "Really."

And despite Ethan not seeing the point in celebrating a day he wished had never happened 28 years ago, he found he actually kind of enjoyed the day. Movies, takeaway (that he managed to eat without feeling sick) and a quiet day with a brother who didn't seem to care that Ethan didn't want to do much.

It was pleasant, Ethan realised.

But it was pleasant enough that Ethan knew it couldn't last. Nothing good ever lasts for him.


	30. Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wanted to talk about it. Damn it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to shout about it. But all I could was whisper "I'm fine."" - Anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are never a consistent length. Sometimes they can be almost 3,000 words, sometimes they barely scrape 1,000. I hope you don't mind, I kind of just write and stop chapters wherever it feels natural, instead of forcing a certain word count. :D

_Sunday_ _, 30 November 2014_

Ethan really wished he'd had the guts to suggest to Cal he could stay one more night. Cal had invited himself over for Ethan's birthday and then proceeded to assume it was okay to spend the night (and Ethan was desperate enough for company that he wanted him to say, despite still having Cal's 'speech' still replay in his head). Cal had then decided to phone in sick for both of them (despite being on separate shifts) so they could spend one more day together with no interruptions or work. But he didn't invite himself to stay last night. Ethan could tell he wanted to - unless he read Cal wrong - and Ethan wanted him to as well. Just knowing that his brother was in the flat with him, hearing his footsteps in the middle of the night or hearing a light switch flick on, made it feel like home again. A home instead of a flat that he just happened to live in. It was comforting just to have  _someone_ with him at night; when he was alone in his own terror-filled dreams.

But Ethan didn't ask Cal if he wanted to stay the night. Because, even after the two days, there was still that haunting little voice in the back of his head reminding him that he hurt Cal badly, that Cal was mad with him, that Ethan should stay away from Cal before he got more hurt. That Ethan was unlovable and the less people he has around him the better.

So fearing rejection from his own brother, and protecting Cal from himself, Ethan let Cal walk out of his door last night and back to sleeping on Max's sofa.

 _What an awful brother you are_.

Except now he was wide awake, at 3 in the morning, after being trapped, frozen in his body, watching Cal die. He didn't have a nightmare the night Cal stayed. Perhaps the two were interlinked. But now,  _now_ they were back.

He doubted whether he was going to get any more sleep tonight.

* * *

Despite being on a different shift pattern now, Ethan had no doubts that Cal would be fully aware of whether Ethan turned up for work or not. Which meant, despite the 3 hours of sleep he managed (and that was being generous), he had to go to work. Also Connie would get suspicious if he didn't turn up too, and the last thing he wanted was his boss on his back.

He couldn't stop the groan escaping his throat at he hauled himself from his cosy bed, losing both the warmth and the safety a simple duvet provided. He managed to make it as far as his bathroom half asleep, and once he'd managed that, everything else seemed that little bit easier.

* * *

They had the same shift. Apparently it was because Cal had been asked to step in for someone else on his day off because Connie couldn't get any locums in for another 3 hours (and therefore Cal had kindly offered as he was only doing admin today). But Ethan wasn't concerned with how it had happened. He was concerned with the fact Cal seemed to be watching his every move. Almost, no definitely like he was waiting for Ethan to mess up.

Ethan wasn't stupid, he knew he would mess up eventually. He just hoped Cal wouldn't be around to see it, because no doubt it would become ammunition later down the line (" _and what even happened with Allie_?" came to mind), or it would just further prove his incompetence as a doctor. Or both, at exactly the same time.

So he was thankful today that he was still in cubicles, because there's less pressure (though they're still in an ED…) so less chance to mess up.

At least, Ethan was vain enough to hope so because he hadn't learned his lesson yet that hoping, as Ethan Hardy, was useless. Nothing ever went right for him.

* * *

"Ethan…" Cal said softly from behind him, placing a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades.

"I'm fine." He shrugged Cal off, twisting his body away from the touch.

"It wasn't your fault."

People say that. People say that a lot. It's a common phrase of reassurance, but also a common lie. Because it  _was_ Ethan's fault. Absolutely and categorically. He should have handled the case better, should have dealt with those bickering parents better, should have focused more attention on the child.

"You couldn't have known that was going to happen," Cal persisted, trying once more to place his hand on Ethan's back.

Ethan, however, feeling the hand touch him, turned around and stepped back. Cal's outstretched arm dropped.

At least his brother had been kind enough to shut the staffroom door. At least this conversation would be private (not that he wanted this conversation). At least the whole hospital wouldn't find out what a mess he made. Though he doubted it would stay private for very long and Ethan knew he had to prepare himself for becoming the centre of hospital gossip. The outsider. He already caused enough hurt and pain after Ash, then he let Allie die. And now this.

"What are you thinking, Eth?"

Ethan took a sharp breath in. "I'm thinking I have to get back to work."

"Connie told you to have a break for a reason. You need some time."

Ethan didn't know what he needed, if he was honest. He  _wanted_  lots of things. He wanted a hug from Cal, he wanted to make that little girl better, instead of knowing she was lying in resus. He wanted to scream at those bickering parents who - not 20 minutes ago - had an argument so bad their kid ran off and straight into the line of an ambulance just because she was so focused on trying to get away. He wanted to shake himself, scream at himself everything he should have done better. He wanted to… he wanted to  _punish_  himself. He wanted to, he needed to cross his arms. Dig his thumb nail underneath his partially rolled up sleeve. Pick at scabs. Hurt himself. Make himself feel pain like that little girl. Punish himself for being so stupid!

But he didn't know what he needed. Until he felt the sharp sting and skin was broken. He glanced down slightly. It was hidden from Cal's view but it was there. His punishment.

"I-I've got to go, Caleb," he rushed out, not missing the yearning look from him as he darted from the staffroom and straight to the bathroom. Or he would have done, had he not been called to another patient.

Well, he supposed, no-one will bat an eye at the small drop of blood on his sleeve. He works in an emergency department after all.


	31. Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Seeing her sitting there unresponsive makes me realize that silence has a sound." - Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

The trolley burst through the doors and Ethan looked around in a panic. No-one was there, no doctors that were in resus today we're waiting. He couldn't deal with this case. He only wanted to get away from cubicles for a bit, he hadn't expected to find himself at the entrance to the ED with an emergency patient needing treatment.

He chewed on his lower lip, hands curling into fists at his side and fingernails digging into his palms. He couldn't do this. He wasn't prepared. He wasn't supposed to. He wasn't good enough to give this person the treatment they deserved.

Jeff was staring at him expectantly, no doubt wondering why the only doctor in sight was standing there looking like a lost child. Ethan could only stare back. The seconds felt like hours.

Until finally, he heard his brother's voice. He'd never been so relieved. Quickly, Cal came over to him, holding his arm reassuringly for a few moments. "I've got this, Eth. Go back to your patients."

He watched, still stood in that same position, as Jeff reeled off the patient's condition to Cal, and Cal looked like a proper doctor. Professional and ready to help. They made their way towards resus, like Ethan should have done.

And despite the relief Ethan felt at being saved at the crucial moment, he couldn't help but feel anger boil up within him.

Some was directed at Cal. For taking over, for showing his own incompetence in front of their colleagues. But most of it was directed at himself, for not taking charge, for not just doing his job and treating the patient.

_You shouldn't be allowed anywhere near patients. You'll only kill them._

Ethan jumped as he bit in his lip too hard. He hated to admit it, but that voice was right. He was a danger to the patients. And to everyone else. He wasn't treating Ash. Ash wasn't a patient. But he still killed him.

Mind made up, instead of going back to cubicles, he walked out in the fresh air and went to sit in the peace garden hoping it would calm him before he would inevitably have to face treating patients. Treating people. Treating people with lives and fears and families…

Treating people who would probably die because of Ethan.

* * *

Lofty had been the one to find him. Ethan was perfectly okay with spending the rest of his shift outside the hospital. It was cold enough weather to cause him to shiver lightly but it was manageable. More manageable than his shift, anyway.

But then he saw the nurse approach him and glanced at his own watch. He'd been outside for over 15 minutes… a bit too long if anyone else was concerned. Lofty had been kind enough without telling him directly that he had to go inside because Connie was on the warpath, and Ethan knew how to take a hint.

So now, he was leaning on one of the tables in the nurses' station severely regretting coming to work. He was looking forward to his bed, the warmth and the cosiness and most of all the sleeping he would do in it. Well, the sleeping-up-until-he-had-a-nightmare sleeping.

He jumped as Cal's voice came from behind him. "Your patient… the one with the hangover," he paused, coming to stand so he could look directly at Ethan. "Sorry, mate, did I make you jump?"

Ethan pulled his shirt hem down as a way to avoid eye contact. "No, of course not. What was that about my patient?"

"Eth, are you hurt?"

Ethan froze for a moment, his stomach churned and his mind thought of all the possible ways Cal could know. Of every possible thing that could have happened to alert Cal to… well to the one thing Ethan couldn't tell him. He was too scared to look at his sleeves. They might have rolled up further, exposing himself. "No, why?" he said as calmly as he could muster.

Cal's hand went towards his sleeve. Ethan flinched away without thinking. "You've… got a bit of blood there, that's all." He gestured to the sleeve.

Ethan finally looked at him. "Yeah, um, you know my patient with the nosebleed?"

Cal looked up, obviously trying to recall the non-existent patient. "Not really…"

"Yes well he had a nosebleed and I must have accidentally gotten a bit of his blood on me."

Cal nodded, frowning.

"It's okay," Ethan looked down, picking at the sleeve and pretending to inspect it. "It's not that bad, I'll just put this in the wash when I get home. What was it you wanted to tell me about the hangover patient?"

"Right, yes. Well…" Cal looked at him carefully. "She has a head injury… Robyn found it."

Ethan felt his throat close up. He missed another head injury.

Voice ten times higher than it usually was, Ethan asked, "she okay?"

Cal waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah it was caught in time."

"I need to get back to her," Ethan said quickly, but Cal put his arm out to halt Ethan's movements.

"Zoe's taken over her care, Connie told her to."

Ethan gasped. "M-Mrs Beauchamp knows?"

"She more than knows, Eth. She wants to see you in her office."

Ethan stared at his feet. "When?" he mumbled.

"Now… but she told me to come in too so it can't be that bad…"

Ethan sighed and allowed Cal to rub his back, taking a little comfort in the gesture. Then he started the walk to his (metaphorical, of course, though a tiny part of him wished it wasn't) death.

* * *

As it was, that could have gone a lot worse. He could have lost his job, faced a negligence complaint or even charge, lost everything he ever worked for.

So as it was, being sent home early on account that he didn't look well at all (how flattering) and needed a couple of days off to rest, was a pretty easy going punishment. He didn't escape without a lecture or a talking down, though it was less mighty bear and more small lion cub-esque

The only downside was Cal was sent home with him. To 'look after' him. To make sure he got home safely and had adequate rest. To Ethan's surprise, Cal looked less unhappy like Ethan suspected he would, and more relieved. Perhaps he knew how bad of a doctor Ethan was and relieved he was away from the patients, finally.

But it also meant spending a day or more with Cal, who would no doubt become Mr Protective. It was already starting and they were only in the car on the way home.

Ethan had so far ignored any of Cal's attempts at getting him to talk. He didn't want to talk about football or  _Star_   _Wars_  or what they would have for dinner. Cal (wisely) stayed away from the topic of Aero, but was more than happy to talk about her brother. Which only served as a reminder that Ethan was an awful brother and Cal liked Owen much better. It was obvious just from the way he talked about him.

He resolutely stared out of the window as Cal continued the drive home. And Ethan let his head loll against the window, feeling himself tire.

* * *

He felt himself being shaken awake and was surprised to find that he had dropped off somewhere along the journey. They were now home, with Cal still pestering him. But Ethan didn't want to talk. His head was to haunting, too full of awful thoughts about his lack of ability as a doctor and the murderer he was and how Cal was better off without him.

So no, he wasn't going to talk.

By the time they had made it up to the flat, Cal had fallen silent. He unlocked the door and let Ethan go in first, locking the door behind him.

"You look tired, Eth," Cal said finally after a couple of minutes of standing in the flat. "Why don't you get some sleep for a bit and I'll wake you up for dinner?"

Too tired to argue and looking forward to his bed, Ethan gave Cal a half-hearted shrug and trudged off to his room, glad to finally have the opportunity for some sleep.

* * *

Cal went through the fridge and all the cupboards, sighing at how little fresh food Ethan had. It seemed that since the last shop they did (that Cal organised), Ethan hadn't gone out again. Cal sighed, he wasn't sure why he was surprised. Something was wrong with Ethan, and while he didn't know what, he could guess.

And while he hated to think about it, because he was sure Ethan was okay now, the parallels to their childhood could not be overlooked. And he couldn't stop thinking about everything he had said to Ethan. He'd talked at him, with enough verbal force he might have well have been screaming in his face. But when he started talking, everything he had kept shut behind his mouth had come out with no filter because... because he still just couldn't believe how Ethan had lied to him.

Without thinking, he slammed the last cupboard door shut. Anger momentarily making him forget that Ethan was currently catching up on some seemingly well-needed sleep. Cal stood very still for a moment, listening out for any movement. Ethan was quiet.

 _Phew_.

Yet it was strange. Right now he wanted the quiet, because it meant Ethan was sleeping. He liked the silence right now. But when they were in the car, the  _last_  thing Cal wanted was silence. Currently, silence was just that. But on the way home the silence was so loud it was deafening. He wanted Ethan to talk to him. To tell him why he looked so troubled. To confide in him.

But that was a lost hope, and Cal knew it was even more so after hurting Ethan (though Ethan hurt him!... but he might be ill... oh, this was such a mess).

Cal tried not to think about it.

They were lucky that there was pasta in the cupboard and some cheese in the fridge (and woah why does edam cheese seem like it doesn't go off?). But he didn't know whether Ethan wanted pasta or something else (not that there was much else by way of food, but it was better to be safe than sorry especially with Ethan the way he was now). But that also meant waking him up, and a groggy Ethan was not fun to talk to.

Cal rubbed at his eyes. Okay. He had to ask him.

He didn't know why he walked quietly to Ethan's room, he was about to wake him up anyway. Force of habit, he guessed.

He opened the door slowly and peered into the room. But that was soon abandoned when he looked at Ethan. The door was thrown the rest of the way open when he saw his brother's not-so-peacefully sleeping body.

"Oh,  _shit_!"


	32. Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I want to tell you about everything but I can't because I couldn't stand for you to have that look on your face all the time. I just need you to look at me and think that I'm normal. I just really need that from you." - Nina LaCour, Hold Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been more than two days which is the minimum update rate I was aiming for. I wanted to get this chapter absolutely perfect and while I haven't managed it this is the best I can do, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I have so much trouble getting things to pace well as everything seems to happen super fast when I write it so if you have any tips or pointers so I can improve on it, please please tell me!

Cal stared, wide-eyed, at his little brother. It wasn't Ethan's state that had him shocked and severely shaken to the core. No, it wasn't how he was writhing on his bed while he slept. It wasn't the look of discomfort etched on his face, making it so apparent he was in a nightmare.

What drew his attention, what made his blood freeze and goosebumps appear on his skin was what was on Ethan's - his  _little brother's_  - skin.

Red, pink, scabbed, healing lines. Incisions. Marks. Injuries.

 _Cuts_.

 _Actual fucking cuts_  that Cal knew were self-inflicted. Actual, real cuts on Ethan's skin.

His forearm was  _littered_  with them, spanning to under just under his elbow. There were a few bright red ones. Recently opened. Cal hated that he now knew where the blood on Ethan's sleeve had come from.

He knew, he  _knew_  that there would be more on his other arm. It was covered currently, and while Cal wanted to desperately know just how bad that damage was, to rip the duvet from Ethan, he was fucking  _terrified_  to find out.

Because Ethan was cutting into his own fucking skin. Because Cal hadn't noticed how bad it got. Because Ethan was ill, very ill, and Cal wasn't sure he was in a position to help.

* * *

Ethan jolted awake. This was not a new feeling. His nightmares often ended with him jumping awake as it reached the climax. Often the scariest part. He breathed deeply, trying to get his heart rate to settle back down to a normal level. He could feel it beating away inside his own chest. But then he realised something. Out of the corner of his eye.

He wasn't alone.

Tiredly, still feeling the aftereffects of his dream, he propped himself up on his elbows.

Cal was standing in the doorway, staring at him, pale as a ghost.

And that's when Ethan realised.

Oh,  _shit_!

Immediately he dropped back down and pulled his covers over his head like a child, burrowing deeper into it. No. This can't be happening. This can't seriously be happening. He didn't have any clean pyjama tops. He didn't think for a second that Cal would come into his room.

Stupid, stupid! He knew! He actually knew!

Ethan almost wished he was brave enough to tell Cal everything, but he knew he couldn't. Cal wouldn't understand. Cal would leave him. Cal would never look back.

He started to tremble under the covers. He hadn't heard any other movement. Cal was still in the room.

He could feel his warm breath under the duvet. It was getting hotter and uncomfortable but he wasn't going to come out and face Cal. The shame, the guilt, the fear. Every single thing would come out. Ethan wouldn't be able to stand it.

"Nibbles…" Cal said tentatively.

Ethan didn't answer. He didn't want to answer. He didn't ever want to speak or look at Cal ever again because Cal would look at him differently, judge him, taunt him and tease him.

He heard Cal take a deep breath. "Ethan, we need to talk. So… so I'm sorry but I'll give you five minutes. To get dressed and come into the living room. And when you do that, we'll talk. Because we have to talk."

No. Never going to happen. Nope.

"Or… God Eth I'm sorry, but if you don't I'll come in here and take your duvet from you and we'll talk like that." He sounded sorry, but Ethan didn't want to talk and Cal wasn't giving him that choice so no, Ethan wouldn't accept that. "And I'm locking the front door. We need to talk. We have to talk."

Ethan heard his footsteps as he left and shut the door behind him.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,  _shit_!

* * *

Ethan's pride (the little he had left, anyway) was damaged by giving in so easily. His façade was completely broken. His mind was taunting him and the shame filled him up.

But he knew what he had to do.

Put Cal's mind at rest. Make him not worry. Make sure Cal knew that he was okay and nothing needed to happen, nothing needed to change Cal's view on him and nothing needed to change between them.

He pulled his jacket sleeves self consciously over his hands, holding them tightly against his palms. Slowly and tentatively he opened his bedroom door and walked through the hallway. He made sure he was quiet enough to maybe not exist, because maybe that way, he could get out of this horrible conversation he was about to have.

But by the time he reached the living room, he was disappointed but not overly surprised that no, he still did exist, and yes, Cal was sitting on the sofa looking like he was about to bite through his own finger.

"Hey," he said hesitantly, making Cal jump and spin his body to face the doorway, letting his hands fall in his lap.

Ethan couldn't stand the look of sympathy on Cal's face so kept his eyes averted to anywhere else in the room.

"Sit down, Ethan." His voice was soft but, just like Ethan's, hesitant.

He made sure to sit as far from Cal on the sofa as possible. He didn't know why, but he couldn't be too near Cal. He kept his fingernails tight against his hand, feeling the pressure on his palms as he held his sleeves tighter. Panicking a little, he looked down at his lap, making sure he definitely did change his shorts for trousers. He couldn't have Cal seeing what he did on his thighs too.

"Um… I want you to be hone - Ethan look at me."

Slowly, Ethan met Cal's eyes. He trembled slightly and gulped. This was it and he wasn't ready.

"Eth, I want you to be honest with me, okay? We won't, um, we won't get anywhere if you're not honest with me. And I'll be honest with you, with anything. Yeah? That sound good to you?"

_Good. How is any of this in any way… good?_

Ethan nodded almost mechanically.

"Okay, um-" Cal rubbed his hands together nervously, "-when did you, when did this start?"

 _Well, you don't waste any time, that's for sure_.

Ethan stayed resolutely silent.

"No, no forget that. You, I remember you saying a while back that you, um, wanted to know how to deal with guilt." He tilted his head to the side, voice becoming unbearably sympathetic. "Was that about Ash? About the crash?"

Choosing to keep up his silence for fear of his voice shaking or cracking, he only nodded. He did consider shaking his head, but Cal was so specific he had a feeling Cal already worked it out. There was no point in lying unless he wanted Cal to hate him even more.

Cal nodded a few times, "okay. Okay. Um, yes okay. Right."

And now look what Ethan had done. Usually, you couldn't shut Cal up and now? Now he was a blubbering mess.

"And when you were skipping work… you weren't sick with a cold or anything, were you? You… didn't feel like going in…"

Ethan stared at Cal for a moment.  _Don't make me talk. Please don't make me talk_.

"Can you tell me why?"

_No, Cal, please don't make me tell you._

Ethan stayed silent.

"We have to talk about it sometime, Eth. But… we don't have to today if you don't want. It's just… we have to eventually. And if you… get it out the way today then maybe I can, you know, help? Even just a little bit?"

It was all too tempting just to spill everything, and suddenly, Ethan found himself talking. It was quiet enough that he was sure Cal had to strain to hear, but he was talking. "I couldn't go to work, Caleb… I'm a liability. People… people die because of me." He couldn't look at Cal much more, he stared at his fingers instead. "I felt… I… nevermind."

Cal's hand held his own. "It's okay to talk, Eth. I want to help you."

Ethan shook his head, feeling a lump form in his throat. But he refused to cry. He was not going to cry.

"Okay, um. I know this is hard, Eth. But I really need you to be honest. How… how long have you been… self-ha -"

"Don't say that," Ethan burst out, shivering. "Don't use that… that  _word_."

"Um… how long have you been… you know?"

Ethan shrugged.

"Is it just on your arms? I won't ask to see or anything, but are they, well, clean?"

Ethan wasn't actually entirely sure, and he wasn't about to admit that it wasn't solely on his arms. He just nodded in answer.

"Look, Eth, I think we should talk about this, about  _everything_ more, but not tonight. This is probably enough for tonight. But, um, we will have to talk sometime in the future. If you ever need to talk to me Ethan, you can. Please don't ever think that you can't. And, if you ever want to, well,  _you know_ , call me or come to me. We don't have to talk about  _it_ but we can talk about something else. Or we can just... do something."

Ethan didn't have the heart to tell Cal it wasn't that simple so he nodded once more.

"Okay, um, stay there. I'll be back in a minute."

When Cal got up from the sofa and left the room, Ethan let his fingernails dig directly into his palms. This was horrible. This cannot seriously be happening. He must be dreaming, or, or  _something_. Cal can't have found out. But he did and he knows and he'll never stop watching Ethan and he probably hates him now and oh  _shit_ he knows!

* * *

Cal felt sick. He didn't notice. All this time, his little brother. He didn't notice anything that was going on with him, too focused on himself as usual. He should have realised the warning signs, he should have realised! He hated himself for not noticing. He couldn't stop going over what had happened recently, and the conversation he and Ethan just had was absolutely haunting. He was stupid to ever think that Ethan was rid of his past, that everything was solved and he would never face the same problems again if something triggered it.

Carefully he lowered his hand into the water, warm but not scalding.  _Perfect_. He wished there were bubbles so it wasn't just a simple bath. A small but comforting thing, a bubble bath. He sighed. This would have to do.

He dried his hand on the towel, eyes catching something on the sink. He shut his eyes for a moment, feeling his stomach churn. In one quick movement, he grabbed the razor and slipped it into his pocket. While he couldn't be sure that was what Ethan used, the blood on it was a warning sign.

When he walked back into the living room, he found Ethan in the same position he left him. Ethan jumped as he was brought from his thoughts. "I've run you a bath… you can, um, relax or something. I'll make dinner if you want."

Ethan looked at him tiredly before standing and making his way towards the bathroom in silence. On the tip of his tongue was Cal telling him to make sure to clean his injuries, but he bit it back at the last second. The conversation was over, he wasn't going to bring it back unexpectedly.

So, trying to forget about recent events, if only for 20 minutes, he started on dinner.

* * *

"Are you not hungry?" Cal asked gently, watching as Ethan continued to push his dinner around his plate without taking a single bite.

Wordlessly, Ethan shook his head. The last thing he felt was hunger. That was buried under layers of shame and guilt and worry and anger and… well, everything else he could feel.

"You should try and eat something."

Ethan shrugged. Looking at the pasta was making him feel a little nauseous if he was honest, and having Cal watching him wasn't making it any better.

"Please eat something, Eth."

The guilt in Ethan swelled up inside him. Cal was pleading with him, his voice sounded halfway between yearning and hurt. Carefully, Ethan stabbed some of the pasta with his fork and put it in his mouth. It tasted like cardboard and the texture made him feel sick. He kept chewing, he could feel Cal's eyes on him. After what felt like minutes he swallowed the eventually mushed up food.

His stomach churned, protesting.

"I… Ethan I want to move back in."

If Ethan hadn't already swallowed his food, he would have definitely choked.

"Not to watch you or anything, not to scrutinise you. I just think… well, I kind of miss you and miss being with you and I think… well, maybe you need the company."

"You're worried about me," Ethan mumbled.

Cal sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Eth. Of course, I'm worried, I'm your brother and you're sel-"

"Don't say it!" Ethan burst out.

"Sorry, Ethan. It was just natural. You're just not very well right now -"

"I'm fine."

"- and I want to make sure you have someone who you can… talk to, if you want. And, to be honest, I miss my bed." He chuckled, but it sounded forced. "Look, Nibbles, I want to protect you. I didn't realise it had got this bad and I'm so, so sorry for not realising sonnet how much you're struggling."

"I'm  _fine_."

"Yeah but you're not though!"

Ethan threw his fork on his place with force and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"I'm worried about you, Ethan. You are deliberately hurting yourself and I'm scared sick that you're going to kill yourself!"

"I'm not going to," Ethan said sincerely, though he didn't believe it himself. Death was… a very appealing concept.

"But how do I know that? You don't talk to me anymore. I don't know what I've done wrong or… I just, Eth I'm your brother and I want to help and support you in any way I can." He paused. "Please let me move back in."

Ethan knew he'd be watched like a hawk if Cal moved back in, but the thought of Cal, of the company, of support, or just someone there was too enticing to say no.

"Okay, yeah. You can move back in."

"One more thing, Ethan. Stand up and close your eyes. I've got something for you."

Ethan hesitantly did so, expecting all manner of things except what actually happened.

A pair of warm arms wrapped around him. Ethan opened his eyes. Cal pulled him to his chest. Ethan let himself relax into his brother's embrace and wrap his own arms around Cal's body. Cal held him tightly and comfortingly.

And that's when, finally, the tears came.


	33. Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain." - William Faulkner, The Wild Palms

_Tuesday, 02 December 2014_

After waking up from a nightmare yesterday morning, Ethan found himself on the sofa, huddled in a blanket and being comforted by Cal. It was strange at first. He was so used to waking up and being in the terrifying aftermath by himself, trying to convince his fears that it was just a nightmare. But yesterday, Cal had heard him pad around the flat at roughly 6am (Ethan didn't ask why Cal was awake at that time, but he had a feeling Cal wasn't the only one who had trouble dropping off to sleep after what happened on Sunday) and quickly set about to making sure he was okay.

He didn't ask about what the nightmare involved, and even though Ethan didn't tell him it was a nightmare Cal was clever enough that he didn't have to.

In fact Ethan stayed fairly silent, something which Cal didn't protest to.

Cal left Ethan on the sofa while he popped down to the shop a while later to get some fresh milk. He made sure to give Ethan some breakfast and then make himself some, as well as some tea. Then they spent the rest of the day watching movies, mainly in a comfortable silence.

Ethan quite liked it. He missed this, just being with someone. Even if they didn't talk it was nice just to have someone there, a presence. It made him feel so much less alone it was extraordinary.

Cal then made them some lunch (beans on toast: the bread was just about okay to eat) and made sure Ethan ate most of it (a little difficult considering how much Ethan just couldn't rid his own thoughts, but he tried his best for Cal) then they continued on with their  _Lord of the Rings_  marathon.

Dinner was pasta again. It was the most Ethan had eaten in as long as he could really remember right now, and Cal, without asking or saying anything, seemed to understand. He made Ethan a smaller portion, commenting that he would have to go to the shops again.

Then, a little while after dinner, Connie rang Cal. Apparently they were short-staffed and if either of them weren't feeling too under-the-weather could they come in. She was referring to Cal phoning in sick in the morning so he and Ethan could spend some time together, and Cal grimaced. Ethan could see the hesitation on Cal's face and selfishly tried to tell him via a look that he really needed to not be alone right now.

Then hated himself because there were sick patients in the ED and Ethan was absolutely fine.

Cal, however, didn't let it deter him. He told Connie that both of them were still a little too ill to work but maybe tomorrow.

And tomorrow turned into today.

"I'm sorry, Eth. I have to go in. I promise I'll try and get some time off for both of us soon, holiday times or something. I do want to stay…"

Ethan shrugged. "You should get going or you'll be late," he said, voice muffled due to the pillow he was laying his head on.

"You sure you don't want to come in? Even for admin?'

At least Cal was being kind enough not to force him in.

"I really can't. I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologise, Eth. There's nothing to be sorry for." He smiled sadly at Ethan. "Call if you need me, okay?"

Ethan nodded, though he doubted he really had the energy to lift up his arm to get the phone.

"Love you, Eth," Cal said after a few moments.

"Love you too, Cal."

* * *

While driving into work, Cal couldn't shake the horrible feeling he had that he shouldn't have left Ethan. He knew he had to go into work, and especially if only to cover for Ethan's lack of working, but the idea of leaving Ethan alone for even a second now he knew… well he knew a lot, made him shiver.

If he put aside the worry of losing his little brother and the worry he that he could cut into his own skin at any time and possibly go too deep or let it get infected and the worry that he didn't eat enough and the worry of his nightmares and the worry over his entire mental well-being because of the deaths on his conscience… well, Cal was relatively worry-free.

But who was he kidding? He wouldn't be able to get through a shift adequately when he was so worried about his little brother, alone in the flat.

He had to make sure he was okay, while still going to work. That was decided, his breaks were going to be spent phoning him, his lunch would be spent driving back to the flat to check he was okay. And after phoning him once more after work, just to check everything was all right, he was go to pop to the shops.

It was time to start being the big brother he used to be, because Ethan needed him and he wasn't going to let him down anymore.

* * *

It was worse than Ethan thought. After spending a day with Cal, so close and so comforting, not having him with him made him feel just as empty as before. Just as useless.

_Cal only went to work to get away from you. They could have got in locums. Cal wanted an escape._

It was louder than yesterday. His haunting thoughts. His thoughts that, however harsh, were always true.

_You're a burden and he can't stand you._

Ethan buried his head in his pillow, trying to muffle his own head. It didn't work.

_He only moved in with you because he felt sorry for you. But now he can use you. He doesn't care, he never did._

He wished he could cry. He really wished he could. But there was just… nothingness in the place of tears and emptiness in the place of the release that came with crying.

He couldn't even muster up the energy to scream, something else that he really wanted to do. At least, that way, he could drown out his own head.

_Cal's scared. He has to get away from you. You could kill him, after all. It's not like your hands are clean of blood. Who's next?_

Ethan clenched his fists, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of nails digging into his palms.

_You need it, remember? You need it._

And then, somehow, he found the energy to turn on his side and scratch his fingers on old scars. He felt the sting of them opening, felt the droplet of blood slide down his arm. Suddenly he didn't feel so numb anymore. There was pain. Glorious, enticing, mind-numbing feelings.

It was like he was a puppet, being moved without his command. He knew, he knew he couldn't do anything else on his arms. Cal could check, get suspicious and see and know.

He dragged his body from his bed, a little energy helping along the way.

_That's what Cal wanted. He left you so you could do this. He wants to punish you, and what better way to do it than by getting you to do it yourself._

He needed the mind-numbing back, and the was only one way he could do it.

Slowly and tiredly he pulled his body along to the bathroom. He looked around purposefully. Determinedly. And it wasn't there.

_Cal. He must have taken it._

Ethan's heartbeat sped up. No! He can't have taken it, Ethan needed it. He  _needed_  it!

_Calm down. You have more. You always have more._

And his head was right. Ethan always bought razors in packs of three, they were cheaper that way. Which meant he still had two more somewhere, if he could remember where he put them. Yet remembering didn't matter, because he was going to go through all the cupboards and drawers in the bathroom. He would find them.

And in the second drawer he looked in, they stared back at him. Glistening metal objects, pulling him in, enticing him.

_Do it._

He slowly took one from the packet and held it in his palm, observing it.

_Do it._

_Cal will hate me._

_He already does._

_I can't._

_But you can._

_Do it._

_I…_

Mind-numbing. That's what he needed. Release. Punishment. Pain.

Ungracefully, he sat on the floor. With a trembling hand, he rolled his pyjama leg up. Cal didn't know this spot. This spot was safe.

_Do. It._

And even though he knew, he knew in the back of his mind he would regret it later, he listened to his head.

And within minutes, dark red lines dropping blood marked over old, healing injuries.


	34. Thirty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It needs strength to stay silent, but it needs courage to confide in somebody." - Namrata Kumari

Cal paced the staffroom. Up and down, up and down. He ran his hands through his hair, down his face, rubbed at his eyes and mouth in worry. He didn't have long left of his break and had already called Ethan five times. But Ethan didn't pick up. Didn't call back or text or  _anything_. It could be that he was sleeping, but he would have woken up to the ringtone. It could be that he didn't have enough energy to answer the call, which was a reasonable enough explanation. Or it could be that something was wrong. And he just  _couldn't_  wait until lunch to find out.

He heard footsteps from behind him and stopped, spinning around to face the person.

"Hi, Cal... you okay?"

And despite his need for everything to be normal, need to see Ethan and not let anything stand in his way, he found himself sinking into the nearest chair from a simple sentence said with so much care and compassion and worry that it hurt. He found he weighed so much, his body felt heavy and tired.

"Has something happened with Ethan?" Lofty asked quietly, walking over to where Cal was and sitting beside him.

Cal dropped his head into his hands. "Is it that obvious?" he said heavily.

"Only to me, I think," Lofty said reassuringly. "I mean you suddenly move back with Ethan and… well there has been a certain absence recently of Ethan attending work, not to mention how stressed you look. And, well it's not like I don't know the history…"

Cal's head snapped in his direction. "You know nothing."

"I'm not stupid, Cal. Anyone with that evidence and half a brain cell can see something's up."

Cal groaned and rested his head on his arms, which were crossed on the surface in front of him. "Everything's fine. You should be working."

"I'm on my break."

"Why are you here, Lofty?"

"...I'm on my break."

Cal groaned again. "You know what I mean."

His hand went to Cal's back supportively. "Because you're a mate. And Ethan is too. And I'm worried."

"Ethan's okay."

"Cal, I'm worried about both of you. Your head isn't in it today, it's obvious. You're completely spaced out and not concentrating… no, don't you day say one more thing is 'fine'!"

Cal sighed.

"As cliché as it is, talking can help."

His head twisted to the side slightly, so he was looking just out of one eye at Lofty. "It's sensitive. And private."

"Two words that you have time and time again shown you don't know the meaning of," Lofty laughed. Cal stayed silent. "Okay, okay. I get it. But um… if you want a nurse's advice on that patient, what's his name, um… Elliott Hugh, then I'm here."

Cal lifted his head and stared at Lofty disbelievingly. "You can't be serious?"

"I don't joke about patient care, Dr Knight." He side-smiled. "So, Elliott Hugh."

"Are we really doing this?" Cal asked skeptically.

"Elliott Hugh." Lofty raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not sure, mate. It's personal. Private. Confidential."

He nodded slowly, "not when someone's in danger."

Cal felt his heart stop for a moment, if that was even possible. He hadn't thought, well not out loud, that Ethan might be in danger. And Lofty, how could Lofty even have the slightest inkling that he could be in danger? But he couldn't tell Lofty about Ethan. It was private stuff. And Ethan…  _well_... Ethan hadn't specifically told him not to tell anyone… but that was taking him completely literally and Cal wasn't an idiot. Ethan wouldn't want anyone to know.

But what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right? And keeping it a secret, especially if it meant Ethan was in more danger because people didn't know… that was hard.

"A problem shared is a problem halved."

Cal scoffed. "Incorrect."  _Huh, I sounded like Ethan._

"Look, I don't want to force you to tell me anything. But I think you should tell someone if something is wrong. I know the background so maybe I'm a good person to tell. Especially if it relates back to that. Cal, mate, something is obviously wrong. I can see that. So please, if you can,  _tell me_."

Cal took a deep breath in and looked hard at Lofty, hesitating. "This stays between us."

Lofty regarded him and nodded seriously.

Cal braced himself. "So I have this patient…"

* * *

Ethan finally breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled the covers over himself. He wasn't sure how long he was in the bathroom for, but it was long enough to do damage and cry and then eventually find the energy to clean up both the mess he made and himself to an adequate state. It wasn't perfect, of course it wasn't, Ethan couldn't do perfect, but it was good enough that Cal would suspect nothing was wrong.

Although Ethan kind of wanted him to. In a weird way. It meant Ethan wouldn't have to tell him, but Cal could find out. Yet Ethan didn't really want Cal to know anything.

What a mess.

Still, now he was safely tucked up in bed where Cal left him this morning. Slowly he reached his arm to his bedside cabinet, shivering slightly when he turned the screen in and saw how many missed calls from Cal he had received. Oh.

Not wanting to have to deal with a potentially worried brother and preferring to instead just not be thinking or feeling (because dear God the regret and shame was starting to creep in and it was a hundred worse now), he let his phone fall back on the bedside cabinet and rolled over, shutting his eyes and praying to fall into a peaceful sleep quickly.

* * *

He hadn't told Lofty about the cutting. That was staying a securely guarded secret until absolutely necessary (which he hoped would be never). He had told him about the guilt Ethan (or "Elliot" which strangely made it easier to talk about) felt, about what he told Cal about Aero, about him skipping work and also about the nightmares of which Cal had seen a couple and then about this morning when he admitted to not feeling up to work. He told him how he wasn't answering his calls. He told him that he wanted to go back to the flat at lunch and then do the food shop after work. Lofty had stayed silent throughout. Nodding his head occasionally and looking worried throughout. And while their break was nearly over, Lofty still didn't rush him or leave. He  _listened_.

"I'm sorry to dump this all on you," Cal said, finally finishing what he wanted to say. "I mean,  _ugh_  it's such a mess and I don't know what to do." His head fell back into his hands.

"I know it's a stupid thing to say, but it will be okay. You just have to be there for him, no matter what happens. Don't judge him, or -"

"Do you think I would?" Cal snapped.

"I'm not saying that, Cal. You just have to make sure you are there for him. Don't judge him or get angry with him or get tired of him. Be his big brother."

"And what if I can't be?" he mumbled.

"You can. And you have friends here, always ready to help. And you have me."

"I'm worried about him, Lofty. I'm  _really_  worried about him."

"You'd be weird if you weren't worried about him."

"Do you think I was wrong, about Aero? Because… I'm certain that she's not a cheat, but it seems so unlike Ethan. I mean it would make sense for him to tell me that… but it also doesn't."

Lofty shrugged. "I'm sorry, Cal. I don't know. It doesn't sound like Ethan and I don't know Aero."

"Major RTC, eta five minutes. You're both needed on the shop floor."

Cal lifted his head to turn and look at Charlie behind him. He sighed. "We're coming."

Conversation over, then.

* * *

Cal struggled through the door with the food shopping. He was so desperate to see Ethan that he couldn't wait another couple of minutes while he took the sensible option and carry the bags two at a time. Instead he opted for them all at once.

He didn't have enough time at lunch to get away and see Ethan due to being inundated with patients, and Ethan hadn't returned any of his calls. He was sure nothing bad had happened, he was  _sure_ , but that didn't stop him bursting straight into Ethan's room after he'd ungracefully dumped the shopping bags on the kitchen floor.

Ethan was, unsurprisingly, sound asleep. Cal unwillingly glanced at his arms. Uncovered by the duvet but covered by sleeves. He scanned them. It was the same top as this morning and it only had a drop of dried red on one of the sleeves. Confident that it was from Ethan moving in his sleep and therefore opening a healing injury, Cal nodded to himself and walked quietly back to the kitchen.

He'd let Ethan sleep until dinner. Everything was okay. Well, as okay as it could be.


	35. Thirty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can feel the hurt. There's something good about it. Mostly it makes me stop remembering." ― Albert Borris, Crash Into Me

_Thursday, 11 December 2014_

As Ethan trudged through to the kitchen, head hung low, Cal looked up in shock and roughly pulled out his earphones, which landed carelessly on the kitchen counter. Not only was Ethan dressed, but it looked like he had showered  _and_  he was carrying the briefcase he usually took to work.

"You're up," he exclaimed, not bothering to hide his surprise, knowing his staring would make Ethan uncomfortable but unable to  _not_ stare.

Ethan looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to silently comment on Cal's stupidity. "No. Of course I'm not, Caleb. I'm still lying in bed-" he gestured behind himself "-feeling sorry for myself. In fact," he said with pretend excitement, "you can even go and  _see_ me under the covers! Nice and warm underneath the duvet, probably sleeping."

Cal huffed. "Okay, fine. Stupid question. I just… didn't expect you to be… well, I'm guessing you're ready for work."

Ethan looked at him in a way that only emphasised Cal's stupidity. Cal decided to ignore the muted jab at him.

"I didn't even hear the shower."

"Well next time you shouldn't play your music so loud."

Cal glanced down at his phone and earphones, the latter of which you could hear music blasting out of still. Cal looked up awkwardly. "Yeah."

"You'll damage your ears, you know, Caleb," he said in the Ethan-know-it-all voice that Cal definitely knew too well.

"Spare me the lecture," Cal sighed, slightly irritated with Ethan but unable to be fully annoyed because Ethan was up, and dressed, and showered, and looked vaguely like a functioning human being, something Cal so desperately wanted for his little brother. "Anyway," he said, dragging out the ending of the word, "back on topic. You're going to work?"

Ethan, who had been standing in the doorway throughout their conversation, walked to the table and not-so-gracefully deposited his briefcase on top of it. "Are we going to go through this again?" He looked at exasperatedly. "Yes, Caleb. I'm awake. I'm showered. I'm dressed. I'm going to eat breakfast and then I'm going to work. Do you have a problem with that?"

Cal regarded him carefully, the concern he so strongly felt was sure was swimming in his eyes because even if the Functioning Human Facade was there, that was all it was. A facade. And Cal knew all too well that facades break in the end. "No." But who was he to break Ethan's bubble of normality? However long it lasts, it happened. And maybe that's what Ethan needs.

"No? Good," Ethan said quickly, walking over to the toaster. He peered into it. "You know you put these up too high?"

"Huh?" Cal said, mind still on Ethan than whatever he was talking about.

"The toast." He waved the rising smoke away and manually ejected the… well, the charcoal. "You put it up too high."

Cal grimaced, but he wasn't going to give in to the Know-It-All Ethan. "No I didn't. I like… well done toast."

"This isn't well done, Caleb. This is something you throw onto the fire to burn."

Cal, not wanting to give in, silently picked up the toast ( _no it's not hot. Caleb it's not burning your hand. It's not hot_ ), ignored Ethan's raised eyebrows and plonked it down on the awaiting plate that Cal had prepared earlier.

"You can't be serious."

He grabbed the knife and spread and started buttering it.

"Cal…"

Once finished, in one swift movement, he took a huge bite out of it, trying not to grimace at the foul taste. He smugly smiled at Ethan and audibly swallowed.

Ethan shook his head. "That's actually disgusting." He looked away for a moment in repulse, before glancing back at Cal. A smile appeared on his face. "Eat up, then."

Cal looked at the unfinished toast for a few seconds and started laughing. "Yeah, I literally can't."

As smugly as Cal did earlier, Ethan grinned. And Cal didn't even mind that Ethan won this time because this was so close to normality that Cal savoured it with everything he had.

* * *

"Hey, Ethan!" Lofty said brightly.

"Good morning," he responded swiftly, nodding in greeting.

"You okay?"

For a moment, Ethan became worried, wondering why Lofty would ask such a deeply personal question. Then reality took over and reminded Ethan that no, it wasn't deeply personal. It was an everyday question that normal people ask other people to be friendly. He was just being stupid. Just because she wasn't okay didn't mean that Lofty knew, because how could he?

"Yes, thank you, Lofty. Are you?"

"Yeah, thanks. Apart from Mr Jefferson."

"The frequent flyer?"

"That's the one." He smiled ruefully.

"Good luck."

"I'm going to need it."

Ethan watched Lofty walk towards cubicles. Pleasantries aside, Ethan noticed something about Lofty. He didn't quite… act the same as he normally did with Ethan he talked with false brightness, his smile didn't quite reach his eyes and he looked like he wanted to say more. Like whatever his brain was telling him to say was stuck on the tip of his tongue, his lips holding it back.

But that ceased to matter as the pungent stench of vomit invaded his nostrils.

Ethan looked down, his own stomach churning from the smell. To his left, a hunched over Mr Jefferson stood, clutching his stomach. And by some miracle, he had missed Ethan's trainers by a mere few inches.

"Sorry about that, Ethan." Lofty smiled half-heartedly. "Come on Mr Jefferson, back to your cubicle. You're not well enough to be going anywhere just yet."

Ethan watched for the second time as Lofty walked away, this time with the patient. And yes, sympathy was there for Lofty, but he didn't want to deal with any Mr Jeffersons today and was silently glad he wasn't the doctor treating him.

* * *

Ethan was really starting to regret this now. He's come to work because he knew skipping more would not be advisable. Connie would become suspicious, as would his other colleagues. He had already been asked by three different people how he was doing, and repeating that same stupid lie he told Lofty over and over again was wearing him down. He didn't have much energy for anything at the moment, God knows how he was meant to get through the rest of his shift.

Currently, he was sat in the staffroom on a much-needed break. His entire body felt weak and he wasn't entirely sure how he was meant to last the rest of the shift. He was on minors, as instructed by Connie, but even that was tiresome. Lofty (after finally discharging Mr Jefferson) kept buzzing around him. He always seemed to crop up, ask him if he was okay because he looked tired, or bringing him a coffee. And if it wasn't Lofty, it was Cal, who had decided to stay with Ethan in their break to keep him company.

He understood why Cal was checking up on him, but not Lofty. It wasn't the first time and Ethan doubted it would be the last.

But he was quite content with spending his break with Cal. As much as he loathed being babied by his older brother, the company was peaceful and comforting. Well, it was, until Aero called Cal and Cal didn't waste any time picking up.  _'I'll be back in a minute, Ethan',_  Cal had said with that stupid lovesick grin on his face. Ethan's heart had clenched because he knew who Cal was talking to. A liar and a cheat who didn't deserve someone like his older brother. But he couldn't get Cal to see sense and if he tried, Cal would only accuse him of lying again and Ethan wasn't sure he could handle falling out with the only person who he could believe cared about him.

 _Like he cares about you. Like anyone cares about you_.

Ethan sighed. Who was he kidding? If Cal cared about him he would believe him. But he cared about Aero more.

 _And he loves her more_.

And he loved Aero more.

* * *

"Still in VF."

"Charging."

"All clear."

"Shocking."

He worked on auto-pilot. The body on the bed jotled with the shock. He wasn't meant to be in resus but he was the only doctor around when the patient crashed. His mind went blank - "no pulse. Resume compressions" - when it happened, then he worked without thinking. He knew how to save someone's life. He was going to save someone's life. The people around him were just shapes with voices, the words they were speaking floating to his ears and through his brain. He knew how to save someone's life.

"Ethan, let me take over."

He didn't know who that was. His mind was focused on his hands pumping at the person's chest. The person without a name, the person with a face covered in blood. He didn't even know their name!

"Ethan."

He stepped away, breathing hard. "Pulse check."

He continued to stare at the bloodied person. In the back of his mind, he knew the statistics. Forty percent saved by CPR. Ten to twenty percent survive long enough to be discharged. They were grim - "nothing." - they always were. But they stood out one hundred times more now. Like a neon signpost down an alleyway. There - "charging," - right there in his head. Forty percent. This person had to be part of the forty percent. Ethan knew how to save someone's life, so he was going to.

"All clear."

"Shocking."

The body jolted again.

"No pulse."

His hands went back to the chest. "How long has it been?" His voice shook.

"23 minutes."

And it's decreasing. The longer it takes, the less chance of survival, let alone a full recovery.

"Let me take over, Ethan."

A hand rested on top of his own pumping ones and he finally recognised the voice of his big brother. Still focused on this patient, he shook his head. "No. I have to do this."

"Ethan -"

"No!"

Cal stepped back. Ethan continued.

And he continued for another 10 minutes. The compressions, the shocks, the pulse checks and then the "nothing" and the "no pulse".

He couldn't save someone's life. It was over. He failed yet another person. Just like Ash. Just like Allie.

"Is everyone in agreement?" he asked, struggling to get the words out past the lump in his throat.

And that was when he finally looked around at his colleagues. Cal. Lofty. Charlie. Staring at him. Nodding. Saying "yes". Everyone was in agreement. This person was dead.

He tried to get the words out, but they got stuck in his throat. From behind him, he heard Cal state the time of death.

"I don't even know his name," Ethan muttered.

And no-one had an answer beside they didn't know either. Because this person was homeless. No ID. No wallet. Nothing. Someone's friend or family, dead, and they didn't even know. All because of Ethan.

* * *

Cal finally arrived home, dropping his keys onto the kitchen counter where only this morning, his phone and earphones had sat, playing music, while he and Ethan achieved some sense of normality. He shouldn't have let Ethan go into work, he knew it would end in tears.

Ethan went home after the death of the patient, claiming he'd caught a bug. Cal knew better than to believe him, but he wasn't allowed home with him. Without Ethan, they were a doctor down, and Cal had to deal with all of Ethan's patients as well as his own. Though it was preferable to letting Ethan continue. He wasn't in the right state of mind at all.

The end of the shift came and Cal didn't waste any time in leaving. He wasn't sure what state he'd find Ethan in but he was certain that it wouldn't be good. He doubted Ethan would have eaten and he was terrified that he had done something bad to himself. And while it went against everything he knew was right and wrong, he had to know for certain. And if that meant invading Ethan's privacy, then so be it.

Cal gently knocked on Ethan's bedroom door and placed his ear against the wood to listen to the response, not surprised when none came.

Pushing down his worry telling him to barge straight it without giving him a warning, he knocked again and a little bit louder, ear still against the door.

"Ethan I'm coming in, okay?" he warned, slowly pushing the door open. He had to hold back the extreme worry he had for his brother because he knew that wasn't what Ethan needed. He needed a cool and calm Cal.

Cal saw, lying under his covers, Ethan. His eyes were open but tired and he looked worn out, like he'd been crying for the best part of the day.

He sat down on the end of Ethan's bed, facing his little brother. "Are you okay?"

"Stupid question," Ethan muttered.

Cal rubbed his hands together awkwardly, unsure how to continue the conversation sensitively when he knew the question he desperately wanted to ask Ethan wouldn't be sensitive at all. He had to go for it, get it done and over with.

"Can I see?"

He could pinpoint the exact moment Ethan's entire body tensed. "What?" he said quietly.

Taking a deep breath, knowing the hard part was starting and he'd already done that, he continued. "Your… your arms. Can I see?"

Ethan rolled over so his back was facing Cal. He didn't reply.

"Ethan I'm worried about y -"

"I didn't do anything," he said quickly.

"I need to see."

"No, you don't."

"For God's sake, Ethan! Stop being so difficult." He sighed, reigning himself back in. "I'm sorry I just… Ethan, please. I know it's a lot to ask but… please."

There was silence for a few seconds as his request hung in the air. Slowly Ethan turned onto his back and sat up. He didn't look at Cal, he stared straight ahead as he rolled up both sleeves to his shoulders. Cal held his breath.

Despite the injuries there, there were no new ones.

And Cal was surprised. "But… you haven't done anything. Why didn't you want to show me?"

Hastily, Ethan shoved the sleeves back down and covered himself back over, his back facing Cal again.

"I didn't want you seeing my… what I… I didn't want you to see it. And because... because I wanted you to trust me."

"Oh, Ethan," Cal sighed sadly, getting up from where he was sat to kneel down beside the head of Ethan's bed. "Please look at me."

He could see Ethan's hesitation but he did roll over. There were tears in his eyes. "I do trust you, Ethan. I just don't trust myself to keep you safe. Okay? Look, I had to know whether you'd done anything, and yes I do trust you but I had to see. For myself." He stroked a stray hair out of Ethan's face. "I'm sorry. About your day and about this. You get some rest now, okay? I'll come back in later to check on you."

He didn't want to leave Ethan, especially when he looked so upset, but Ethan didn't need Cal watching him and Cal decided he just needed some time alone. Cal could make dinner for them both, get some food in Ethan. And Ethan could have some time to collect himself.

* * *

Ethan hid his face in his pillow and cried his eyes out. It was muffled and nearly silent anyway - Ethan had perfected the art of silent crying - so Cal wouldn't hear. Even though he desperately just wanted to go to Cal as he had done as a child, be comforted and hugged and put to bed, he wasn't a child. He was an adult with blood on his hands and couldn't damage his family.

But it hurt. It hurt  _so much_ that Cal didn't realise that his Habit was still very much ongoing. That he'd done it as soon as he'd come home, virtually ripping up his thighs. Ethan didn't even want to stop doing it, it was his only method of release and while it only helped for a few minutes at most, it  _helped_. It was the only thing that did. The shame and guilt and regret that followed was a mere side-effect that Ethan could handle. But he wanted Cal to realise, to show that he cared enough to know and help him. Because it was glaringly obvious Cal didn't care as much for him as he did for Aero. If he did, he would have stayed with Ethan. He wouldn't have left so quickly.

He just wanted someone to care like he would for other people. His only family prioritised and believed their girlfriend over Ethan. And soon Ethan was sure he would fade into nothingness, become just another name to Cal, a name without meaning.

And perhaps that was what the person was earlier. The one Ethan failed to save. Just another name to people, a living breathing  _nothing_. A no-one. That's what Ethan was, and he suddenly found himself hoping that he wouldn't be a living breathing nothing. He would be a  _dead_  nothing. Because it makes no difference to anyone around him. He's still a nothing. The change would be to Ethan, would be becoming free from the guilt of the deaths on his hands and meaning that Cal could carry on with his life the way he should.

 _Without_  Ethan.


	36. Thirty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I honestly don’t know what I want in life. I don’t even know what I want right now. All I know is that it hurts so much inside, and it’s eating me alive. One day, there won’t be anything left of me.” - Unknown

_Saturday, 20 December 2014_

Every morning before Cal left for work, he exercised the same routine. First, he knocked on Ethan's door. It was more of a gesture of kindness than practicality because Cal refused to let Ethan shut his door (“safety” he said). If at any moment he saw it closed, he just opened it back up again. Ethan wanted to be thankful that Cal gave him some illusion of privacy in the way that it only has to be open by a tiny bit, but he can't be because Cal treated him like a misbehaving little boy. After knocking and waiting a few seconds for an answer he wouldn't get (because Ethan didn't see the point in mindless talking) he peeped his head in and asked if Ethan wanted to go to work. A mumbled 'no' would leave Ethan's mouth and Cal would sigh, pull the door to and then go to the kitchen.

A while later (enough time for Cal to eat his breakfast and shower), Ethan would hear Cal patter back to his room. He opened the door, told him what he made Ethan for breakfast (it changed between cereal and toast, both with some fruit) and sat it down on his bedside table. Ethan would usually mumble that he wasn't hungry, or sometimes stay completely quiet, but Cal wouldn't stop doing it. He would then take out his phone and ring Connie. Ethan suspected he did it in front of him so, at any point, he could change his mind and say that he wanted to go to work. (He never did.) The excuse they used was that Ethan had the flu and lost his voice. But the excuse was running thin after the ninth day of using it.

Then, once Cal sat with Ethan for a couple of minutes as he tried to convince him to have some breakfast – Ethan never managed a lot but Cal always made sure he ate some – made sure to tell him to ring if he had a problem and that he loved him (Ethan wanted to respond that he loved him too, but the 'too' suggests he believed Cal loved him in the first place and he just… didn’t), Cal would wish him goodbye and leave for work.

Ethan would stay in the same position he woke up in, usually an hour beforehand. Curled under the covers, staring at the wall, wondering if it was possible to run out of tears.

* * *

The suggestion came almost a week and a half after Cal started babying him.

Despite the situation, Ethan thought he'd been handling things rather well. Aside from the insomnia he was plagued with and the nightmares that plagued him when he finally managed to drop off, the constant nausea whenever he thought of eating, the constant self-blame that rolled around in his head as he involuntarily kept thinking of all the people he let down or let die, the lack of attending work because why would he go back to a place where he was meant to help people and did anything but and, of course, the constant crushing feeling of darkness, everything was going smoothly.

He knew he should have expected it, really. Cal wasn't the type to sit around and wait for something to happen and it had been over a week since Ethan had just decided to stop existing in every way he can (apart from death, because he didn't think he was quite ready for such a big commitment), so when Cal dragged him – _literally_ – out of his bed and to the bathroom when he came home from work, Ethan should have expected something was wrong.

He wasn't one to let his pride get in the way of things, but he knew he got that gene from his father and sometimes he couldn't avoid it. When Cal sat outside the bathroom like a petulant child (he chose to ignore the fact it was he, himself, being the petulant child), refusing to move until Ethan had showered ("It'll make you feel better, Nibbles. It's been days since you last showered."), Ethan put up quite the fight. But it only took ten minutes until he gave in and stood under the stream of warm water. It was rather nice if he was being honest, but it wasn't nice enough to be worth getting out of bed for.

Once he was showered and dressed, Cal led him to their kitchen and sat him down at the table. A Thursday Night Special was placed in front of him (it wasn’t Thursday and it felt wrong to eat it when it wasn’t a Thursday, but he didn’t complain – Cal looked stressed enough) and Cal sat opposite him with his own crisp sandwich.

Ethan briefly shut his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to quell the nausea. Sat like this, in their kitchen with food in front of him and a worried brother opposite him, it seemed to double. Yet he didn’t want to let Cal down, to add to the worry lines on his forehead, and so tried his best to eat it.

He was only three little bites into the meal when the silence started to get uncomfortable. Cal was looking anywhere but his eyes and it unnerved him.

“What’s going on?”

Cal jumped, evidently startled by the start of conversation. He said nothing.

“Caleb?”

Sighing, Cal placed down his own sandwich and looked at Ethan’s face. He started to speak with trepidation, setting Ethan’s body on edge. “Okay, look. You’re not going to like what I have to say, but I want you to hear me out, alright?”

“Great thing to preface something with, Cal. No, really, you should get an award.”

Ignoring him, Cal jumped straight to the deep-end and asked, “Ethan, how would you feel about therapy?”  
  
He almost felt like jumping from his seat and running from the room like a child. If he had the energy, he might have done. Instead, he looked away from Cal and focused his gaze on the half-eaten packet of biscuits lying on the counter. It was easier scolding Cal inside his head than thinking about the inevitable conversation to come.

“I know it’s not something you’d like–”

“That’s an understatement.”

“– _but_ I was hoping you’d consider it,” Cal finished.

Ethan could almost feel the strength of the way Cal looked at him and glanced back at Cal's face. “I don't want to. End of conversation.”

“Eth,” Cal sighed. “The flu excuse won't last forever, and I swear Connie can tell when I'm lying to her face. The past three days she’s got to me as soon as I enter the ED to ask about you. If you can't work that's fine, but you need a reason.”

Ethan shrugged, playing around mindlessly with some bread crumbs on his plate. “Well, then I guess we'll just have to think of something else.”

“ _But_ if you went for an assessment, you might get some therapy and, and then you can get signed off work for however long you need.”

“No, Caleb.”

“Why not?”

“ _End of conversation_ ,” Ethan pressed, sighing in annoyance. He wished Cal would just drop the therapy talk; it was obvious Ethan didn’t want to talk about it. He loved his brother but sometimes he could be really irritating.

Cal leaned back and slumped down, shaking his head. “Stop being so difficult.”

“Stop being so stupid, then.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, akin to when they first started to eat. Ethan really regretted asking Cal what was going on now.

“ _God_ ,” Cal ground out between clenched teeth. “Look. There's… I've booked an appointment.”

“You _what_?” Ethan said incredulously, glaring at him.

“It's in a few days. I know it’s soon but he said he can see you as he had a cancellation–”

“Ha-ha _no_. No way. Not happening. And thanks for going behind my back, by the way.”

“ _Shut up and listen_. His name is John See and he's a clinical psychologist and–”

“No! That's final!”

Cal sat up with force, a pleading look on his face. “ _Please_ , Ethan. It's only an assessment.”

Ethan scoffed. “He sounds like a vitamin.”

“Oh, stop being childish.”

“You want me to spill my feelings to a guy who sounds like he should be one of my 5-a-day.” Ethan raised his eyebrows. “It really eludes me how you’ve known me my entire life and yet think I’d be okay with this. Well done, _bro_.”

Cal huffed out a breath, clenching his jaw. “It's a simple assessment, nothing more if you don't want it.”

Ethan’s brow furrowed in disbelief – he knew the system and it didn’t escape his notice that his thoughts weren’t exactly healthy. “Unless they decide to section me.”

“Well if there's a reason to section you, you definitely _do_ need help,” Cal said bitterly.

“I'm not seeing Vitamin John and that's final.”

“It's an _assessment_ ,” Cal said, raising his voice and throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Which can lead to more!”

Cal looked away from him, rubbing a hand over his head and hair. “Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Because I'm doing fine by myself!”

“For God’s sake, Ethan!” He slammed his hands on the table, making Ethan jump. “You said that last time and look what happened.”

“Don't you _dare_ bring up last time,” he said dangerously.

“You tried _killing_ yourself.” He huffed. “More than once, might I add.”

“That’s low, Caleb. Even for you.” Ethan shook his head. “It's not the same; don't even _try_ comparing then to now.”

“How can you say it’s not the same?”

“Don’t go there, Caleb. I mean it.”

Cal ignored him. “Oh, let’s see. You're not sleeping, and when you are you have nightmares. Constantly. You barely eat or even get out of your bed!”

“Cal–”

“This was the first time you showered in _days_ and it’s because I forced you–”

“Stop–”

“You're not even going into work! How many times did you bunk off school as a kid?”

“What makes you think you have the right–”

“Oh and that's not to mention that you _hurt yourself deliberately_. And for what? To satiate some need for release? Have control? _Fun_?”

“Oh yeah, because going against the basic human instinct to not get hurt is something I, Ethan Hardy, would do for _fun_.”

“Well, I don’t know! You don’t talk to me!”

Ethan raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “So you want me to talk to a vitamin instead.”

“God _dammit_ , Ethan. Now you're just resisting for the sake of it.”

“I'm not!” Ethan shouted. “I'm _disagreeing_ with you. If your ego can't take it then that's your problem.”

Cal ground his teeth together. “Fine. I'm only trying to help; sue me.” He stood up with force. “See you in the morning. I'm going to bed.”

He started walking away, but he turned back, eyes blazing. “Oh wait, I won't, will I? Because you'll just stay under your fucking covers hiding away from the world and slowly killing yourself.” Cal stormed off to his room.

Ethan muttered, “precisely,” under his breath, the irony not escaping him that he complained about Cal’s ego and yet wanted the last word just to get back at Cal.

* * *

It took a while for Ethan to move from the table. The lethargy seemed to decrease as he was arguing with Cal, spikes of energy hitting him before falling away. He just ended up more tired than when he sat down at the table and by the time he could drag his body back to his room he was already sinking deeper than he had since he woke up.

By the time he got to his bed, he sat down heavily and bit down on his lip to try and ignore the feeling. The tingling, burning feeling on him that so enticingly invited the feel of sharp stinging as he sliced his skin. He curled his toes and shut his eyes and tried to think of other things. For the last few days, he’s not done it – the idea of Cal knowing finally sinking in enough to stop him. But now it was ever so tempting and it _hurt_.

To distract himself, he changed out of the clothes Cal had given to him when he showered (something about feeling more normal might help him) and changed into his pyjamas. He thought of going back to the kitchen to clear up both his and Cal’s unfinished dinners but the idea of running into Cal was enough to stop him. Cal was angry with him and Ethan didn’t want to provoke him more by being there.

He sat against his headboard, drumming his fingers on his thigh. It was distracting, the urge increasing until it was all he could think about. His head was so loud, so noisy. The one thought above them all – _do it, do it, do it_ , drowning out all other thoughts of therapy and Cal and how much of a letdown he was and how he killed patients and killed _Ash_ and he couldn’t _not_ think about it.

Until he didn’t think about it, and before he knew it everything happened in a blur and he’d given in. He hated himself for keeping the tempting object in his room, hidden from sight. He hated himself even more for giving in to that temptation.

And he didn’t even know how long it lasted until he was crying silently, guilt and self-hatred welling up inside of him like the tears in his eyes.

* * *

He glanced at the clock. It was at least two hours after Cal had forced him to shower and he sighed. The tears had dried up but his eyes hurt and he had a headache. He hadn’t heard Cal move at all since their disagreement and he hadn't looked down at his own destruction since pulling his pyjama leg down and hiding it (he was glad they were black trousers).

He thumped his bed with one hand in frustration. He didn’t want to end the day on a bad note with Cal. Logically he knew he was right, seeing someone was probably the best course of action. But emotionally he _couldn’t_ and he didn’t even know why. There were too many reasons, like a loud party bus and there were too many people making noise so it all just drowned itself out into one collective noise. And that one collective noise was “ _I can’t_ ”. He didn’t even want to try and decipher the individual voices. It hurt too much.

Preparing himself for the possible volatile conversation to come, Ethan slowly stood up (trying to ignore the sharp pain as his trouser leg brushed up against what he’d done) and made his way to his brother’s room.

From the slither underneath the door, Ethan could see a dim light pouring through. He knocked a couple of times stood waiting for a response. A soft “come in” bled through the door and Ethan cautiously entered. Cal looked up from his laptop, nothing but sympathy on his face, and closed the lid, pushing it away from him and towards the end of the bed. He turned on his bedside lamp and the room lit up.

“I'm sorry,” Ethan muttered, stood in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to get like that… it's just hard, you know.”

Cal smiled sadly, patting the bed next to him, inviting Ethan to sit down. Ethan hoped that meant he was forgiven. He slowly (trying not to give away what he’d done) made his way around the bed and sat down on Cal’s right, resting his head on Cal’s shoulder.

“I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten mad or tried to force you into anything. I just… want to see you happy.”

Ethan clasped his hands in front of him, twiddling his fingers.  “Do you ever just want to… stop existing for a bit?”

Cal shifted, turning his head to look at him in alarm. “Ethan–”

“No, no. I'm not talking about death or anything.”

Cal breathed out with relief.

“I wish I could just… pause everything for a while. Like, I'm on a train right now and it's hurtling at full speed down the track and I just want to stop it and get off for a bit. And then be able to get back on it without anything changing. I just want to pause life for a bit. Just stop it and be able to un-pause when I’m ready.

“But you can't,” Cal said quietly.

Ethan shrugged. “I know. Doesn't make me stop wanting it though.”

“Eth, if you don't mind me asking… why are you so opposed to seeing John See?”

Ethan hesitated. He barely knew himself. “I guess I'm scared. My past isn't great and it haunts me, I don’t want to be judged on that and… it just feels wrong. Like, I was better. I _got better_. Why should I have the right to be this way again? But even still, on the flip side, there’s this part of me that asks why I get the pleasure of being happy.”

“Nibbles…” Cal sighed.

“I mess everything up, Cal. I hurt patients, I kill them. I cause death. Why should I get the chance to be happy when all I cause is sadness?”

“Is that why you… went back to old habits?” Cal asked carefully.

“Honestly? I don't know.” Ethan sighed. “It's hard to resist sometimes. I just get this _feeli_ ng and it's easier to give in. My head's so loud, Cal. It's always so _loud_ and confusing and it's like I'm seeing the world through these glasses and they distort everything. I don't know what to think or what's the right thing to think and it hurts.”

Cal took a moment to respond. “Have you got an example? Maybe I could help.”

Ethan had a lot of examples, but just as Cal finished the question, one stood out like a flashing light among the darkness. “I don't know whether you love me or not,” Ethan muttered. “I sometimes think you do because of what you do and how you act towards me but then my brain comes up with all the reasons of why you can’t and why you’d be better off without me an–”

“Ethan, stop. Of course, I love you!”

“But that's the thing,” Ethan emphasised. “I don't know if you do because of how distorted everything is. Like how can someone love me when I…” He stopped. He hadn’t meant to go _that_ far.

“Ethan?”

He shook his head.

“Ethan, tell me,” he said gently.

He looked to the other side of the room. “I don’t understand how someone can love me when I’ve got a million reasons why they can’t. A million reasons why I hate _myself_.”

“Oh, Ethan.” Cal’s hands closed over Ethan’s supportively.

Ethan shrugged, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it by now. “I wasn't being resistant for the sake of it, you know. I don't like arguing. It's just sometimes… it gets too noisy and then you just _added_ to the noise and I just got angry. I don't want my brother being another problem in my head.”

“I'm sorry,” Cal said heavily.

He shook his head. “Don't be, it's not your fault.” He paused, considering his next move. “I don't want to see Vitamin John.”

“Then you don't have to.”

“But maybe… maybe seeing him is the first step to being okay. I don’t know, Caleb. It’s too… muddy to think most of the time. It’s too loud in my head. I can’t do it by myself.”

“So?” Cal asked, and Ethan picked up on the slight edge of hopefulness straight away.

“If seeing Vitamin John is the first step, then so be it.”

“I'm proud of you, buddy,” Cal said, a smile in his voice. “And you’re not alone. You’ve got me too and I love you.’

Ethan wished he believed him.


	37. Thirty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I'd crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation was provocation enough. Cutting was my all-purpose solution.” - Caroline Kettlewell, Skin Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so bad I'm sorry but I just can't do this chapter anymore I just need it finished agh I'm sorry

  _Monday, 22 December 2014_

Ethan picked at the corner of the duvet cover resting by his head. He had no reason to, really - it wasn't like there was a bit of fluff or dust on it - but right now he didn't have much of a reason to do anything (and he ignored the traitorous voice in the back of his head telling him that 'anything’ also included living). He just… didn't know what to do. His head spun with the horrible reminder that he'd agreed to the assessment with Vitamin John, and Cal had looked so happy when he told him that so the thought of backing out made his stomach twist.

To try and distract him from it, Cal had used his day off yesterday to try and help Ethan think about it as less as possible. It was counterproductive really because doing something for the sole reason of taking his mind off it only served to remind him of what he was meant to be taking his mind off of. (Not that he told Cal that, he didn’t want to upset him more than he already did - he knew he was high maintenance already and he couldn’t give Cal more reasons not to love him.) Today, however, there was no Cal to take his mind off anything. Cal was in work and saving lives (doing what Ethan should be doing) and being a good person.

Ethan was not doing that. Ethan was not a good person.

He hadn't touched the long-gone-cold toast Cal had made him and he'd only had a couple of grapes; any more made his stomach turn. He knew he should do something, keep himself occupied or even have a shower, but just the thought of moving from the position he'd been in for hours was tiring. And anyway, he had a shower a couple of days ago, it was no big deal if he left it a few more hours (or maybe another day or two).

He stopped picking at the duvet with a sigh. He was too out of energy to do that. Ethan knew that if breathing wasn't a natural occurrence he'd be too tired to do that as well.

Soon enough even his eyelids started to droop, and Ethan let himself fall into sleep. Unconsciousness was favourable right now, even with the possibility of nightmares.

* * *

He woke up no less than three and a half hours later, the neon numbers on his alarm clock blaring at him like they were taunting him, mocking him for his weakness. The weakness that he couldn't even get out of bed.

He rolled slowly to his other side and wondered how much longer it would be until Cal got home. He didn't have the energy to interact with him or even listen to him jabber on but he wanted a hug, really. He wanted comfort from his brother, just to be held and curled up with, have his head stroked like he was a child again. Just have someone with him... but he knew that it was impossible. Ethan couldn't even move from his bed; Cal should never want to comfort a man who can't even perform basic human functions.

The thought sent his mind spiralling and before he knew it, every reason he'd ever had for people not to love him bombard him. Every person he's ever let down taunt him.

He was too tired to cry, so he just let his tears roll down his nose and across his face, dripping onto the pillow below.

One thought is prevalent amongst all the chaos. The shining beacon bright in the darkness, if you will.

He hates himself. He really, really hates himself.

* * *

“Hey, Nibbles,” Cal said as he entered Ethan’s bedroom, going to kneel at the side of his bed right by where Ethan’s head rested. “You okay?”

Ethan blinked. Cal had only just come home; only just shut the door, and the first thing he did was go to Ethan?

Cal sighed sympathetically, “sorry, I know.”

Ethan just looked at him (probably pitifully, judging by the look of Cal's face), too tired to speak.

“Have you had lunch at all?” He glanced at the leftover breakfast sadly. “You didn't eat much of your breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” Ethan mumbled, just the thought of cold toast enough to make nausea stir within him.

Cal laid a warm and strong and grounding hand on Ethan's shoulder. “I know, Eth. But you've got to eat.”

Ethan shrugged weakly.

“How about I make-”

The ringing of Cal's phone interrupted them and Cal expertly slid it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. “I've got to take this,” he said, standing up (knees clicking) and answering just as he left the room.

Ethan heard a quiet, “hey, Aero,” and felt his heart clench painfully. His brother had just come home from work and all Ethan wanted was to just be with him but of _course,_ his brother’s cheating girlfriend would ring just as Ethan was about to get his wish. (At the back of his head was a voice reminding him that he didn't deserve cal’s comfort, that even a girlfriend that cheated on his brother was better than him.)

He watched the digital numbers on his clock with tired eyes. They changed once, twice, three times. By the time Cal came back in, Ethan was seeing the same number again. 10 minutes on the phone, to a cheater that Ethan had warned him about but Cal didn't love Ethan enough to believe him.

Cal loved Aero more.

“Sorry, Eth. I've got to go,” he said, appearing in the doorway. “Owen’s had another fall and Aero’s worried. You know how older siblings get.” He chuckled sadly. “I won't be long, I promise. Then we can have dinner and watch a movie. Sound good?”

Ethan tiredly pulled himself up onto one elbow, feeling it shake beneath him, a reminder of how physically tired he was. “Cal…” he started painfully. “Please… don't.’

Cal’s eyebrows furrowed  “Don't what?”

Ethan hesitated, but he had to say it. He had to make Cal believe him or just prove to himself that Cal really did love Aero more.“She kissed someone else.”

Cal sighed in annoyance and looked away briefly. “Ethan. We've been through this.”

“I did see her kiss someone else!” he pushed forcefully, energy suddenly firing his body into action.

He shrugged. “Maybe you saw someone else.”

Ethan felt his throat clog up. Cal was meant to believe him. “I didn't - I saw _her_.” He paused. “Please believe me.”

“I… I want to.”

“Then say it,” Ethan said disbelievingly. “Say you believe me.”

Cal said nothing.

Ethan's eyes widened. “ _Say it_.”

“...I can't.”

“Why _not_?”

Cal looker physically pained. “Because I don't. I just… don't. Because I _know_ her. I love her, Eth. I really do.”

Ethan fell back down onto the bed, turning away from Cal. “It's your funeral,” he resigned.

“We’ll talk about this when I get back, okay?... Love you.”

 _But you love her more_.

He felt Cal's presence still in his room, but eventually, Cal sighed and walked out. Ethan listened to the receding footsteps.

The front door clicked shut.

Ethan cried.

* * *

“He’s asleep,” Aero said as she walked back into the living room. She gestured upstairs, “the painkillers have kicked in too.”

Cal smiled at her, though it probably came out more forced than he would have liked. His and Ethan’s conversation had been spinning ‘round in his head ever since he left their flat. He was starting to think that maybe Ethan was right. “Glad he’s okay.”

“All thanks to you, Dr Knight.”

Cal shook his head. “I barely did a thing.”

Aero rolled her eyes. “Ok, Mr Modest.” She sat down beside him and let her head fall down. “I honestly got really worried about him. When I heard him cry out like that…”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He's okay.” Cal grasped her hands and she looked up (he stared into her eyes, mesmerised by them). “It was nothing serious and the pain will settle in a few days.”

“Thanks, Cal,” she smiled gratefully. “Now. You’ve come all the way over here and helped - cup of tea?”

Cal grimaced. “I really should be getting back…” ( _And I kind of don’t trust you right now.)_

“Your brother’s a big boy,” she laughed slightly. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Cal wasn’t going to spill his brother's business to her and despite the cheating allegation, he couldn’t help but feel his chest float like he hadn’t had in days (it wasn't Ethan's fault, of course, but it was still tough dealing with someone so sick). He bit his lip, he really wanted to spend more time with her. “One cup. Half an hour. Then I have to go - I promised him.”

Aero tutted playfully. “Okaaaaay.”

She stood up and before he had time to even think about what he was doing, Cal decided to bite the bullet and blurt out, “did you kiss anyone?”

Aero laughed (Cal really loved her laugh) and sat back down beside him. “So we're playing the 'how many people have I slept with before you’ game, huh?”

Cal looked away uncomfortably. “Not _before_ me, per say. More… while with me.”

Aero took a moment to catch on. “Cal!” she said incredulously. “You can't be serious?” She stood up and moved away from him as if even being near him was an awful thought. “I could ask you the same question; I've heard the rumours, Caleb Knight.”

Cal looked at her apologetically. “I'm sorry,” he said heavily. “It's just Ethan saw something, he said he saw you kiss someone and I thought he was lying about it all at first and then I realised it might have just been someone that looked like you but it's been rattling around in my head and I had to ask.”

Aero sighed, coming to sit back down and cutting off Cal’s nervous rambling. “It's okay, I guess. I'd be the same. But you have to trust me, Cal.” She took his hands in her own. “Look. I know it's probably too soon but I don't care. I… God, I'm just going to say it. I think I might be in love with you, Cal.”

Cal smiled slightly, looking at her face, her beautiful face. “I think I am, too.”

Aero looked up the stairs suggestively. “Owen's a heavy sleeper and... I don’t really fancy tea.”

Cal wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, “is that so?”

They wasted no more time.

* * *

Cal came back at eleven at night, on the dot. Four full hours after he left. He wasn't quick and probably didn't even try to be; probably glad for the opportunity to get away from Ethan for a bit. And apart from a trip to the bathroom and a very regretful episode of crying, screaming and slicing into his own skin, Ethan spent that time lying in his bed, trying to get away from himself too.

It didn't work. Nothing worked.

When Cal peaked his head into Ethan’s room soon after entering the flat, Ethan pretended to be asleep.

Cal didn't believe him.

Cal didn't trust him.

Cal didn't _love_ him.

The last person on Earth who had the potential to care for Ethan and Ethan was let down.

He was alone. Nobody loved him and he didn't have anyone. He was, for the first time in his life, completely and utterly alone. He was a bad person; he killed patients, he let down the department, he skipped work and threw Connie in the deep end.

Ethan picked at the scabbing over cuts and, not for the first time, wished he was dead.


	38. Thirty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, 'There now, hang on, you'll get over it.' Sadness is more or less like a head cold - with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.” - Barbara Kingsolver, The Bean Trees

_Monday, 29 December 2014_   


Cal had been kind enough in the days leading up to the assessment that he didn’t push Ethan to talk. He mainly kept his distance (though more so directly after he went to see Aero) but his gaps between not being with Ethan were becoming more few and far between. He’d even taken to bringing in his laptop when he got home from work and simply keeping Ethan company. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t really need to. Cal had started to understand that just being with Ethan was enough to settle Ethan’s mind a little.

It was something they often did when they were teenagers. They wouldn’t talk, they might not even look at each other, but they would be with each other. Ethan suspected at first that Cal thought that act wouldn’t be as beneficial to adult-Ethan as it would to teenage-Ethan, but it took no more than a longing look from Ethan one day when Cal went to leave his room for Cal to get the hint.

They spent much of Christmas day together. Not for any celebration or anything, Ethan couldn’t understand the point in celebrating (or the point in anything) right now and Cal kindly respected that. It made Ethan’s heart warm just with the consideration and delicacy that his brother showed him.

But it didn’t really matter as Ethan got up that morning. People often dreaded getting up Monday morning when they had a nine to five weekday job (Ethan was told once that if he was in a job he loved, he’d never dread getting up on Monday, which only made him consider his time working in Holby ED if he dreaded every single day since the crash) and it was barely different for Ethan. Barely, because he wasn’t going to work.

He was getting up, out of his soft, comfy safe-place for the first time in days for something other than necessity (and Cal dragging him to the shower) to go for a mental health assessment with a vitamin. Fan _tastic_.

“Well done,” Cal said, greeting him far more chirpily than he looked.

Ethan collapsed into a chair bonelessly. “What for?”

Cal nodded in the vague direction of the bathroom. “Showering.”

“Don’t patronise me,” he said instantly, resting his head on the palm of his hand. God, his head felt heavy. Cal said nothing in response and Ethan sighed. “Sorry. Ignore me. I didn’t mean that.”

Cal sat down opposite him, depositing Ethan’s plate of toast in front of him and tucking into his own cereal. “Don’t worry about it, I get it.”

They spent the next few minutes in silence, the only sounds coming from crunching and Cal sighing as he spilt milk on himself. Ethan wanted to laugh, a vaguely familiar bubble rose in his chest at the sight, but it didn’t reach past his throat. It jammed itself in there. He wished he could unjam it.

“So-” Cal tapped nervously on the table “-how do you feel?”

Ethan took his fifth bite of the toast immediately to stall, despite it feeling like bites one to four had jammed in his throat along with his laughter.

“Stupid question?”

He looked properly at Cal for the first time that morning, guilt swelling inside him as he noticed the dark bags underneath his eyes and the way his leg bouncing underneath the table made his body intermittently move. “No, I just…” he sighed in frustration, “don’t know how to answer it.”

“You know that’s okay, right? To not have an answer?”

Ethan nodded glumly. “I don’t like not having an answer. I hate not knowing _why_ some things happen, why I feel certain things. I know-” he said, before Cal could interrupt, “I’m a doctor, I _know_ that sometimes there isn’t a reason I can formulate. But still. It’s frustrating.”

“It’ll be alright today. See’s been in this job fifteen years so he can’t be _that_ bad,” he said lightly.

“Well that’s reassuring,” he said sarcastically,

“Ethan. You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Yes, Vitamin John must be alright or else he would have been fired.”

“I wish you'd stop calling him that,” Cal sighed.

Ethan merely tilted his head at him and Cal rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. He sounds like a vitamin and you won’t stop calling him that in a million years. If you carry on like that, though, neither might I.”

Ethan half-smiled. “My cunning plan is revealed.”

Cal snorted. “Oh, shut up.”

* * *

Ethan entered the room nervously, pulling his sleeves down over his arms. It wasn’t chilly but the window was open and there was a slight draft blowing in (and he was self-conscious about the marks, despite them being far further up his arms). Vitamin John gestured for him to take a seat and Ethan quickly obliged.

They were opposite in a setting Ethan knew far too well from his childhood. Except he wasn’t a child. He was an adult with another adult and it was going to be okay (if he could get himself to stop shaking).

“John See,” he said, holding his hand out for a handshake.

“Ethan. Hardy.” (He hoped Vitamin John didn’t realise how clammy his hands were, but the traitorous part of his brain just reinforced that of course, he could, _you idiot_.)

Vitamin John crossed his legs over one another, relaxing back in his chair. Ethan tried to do the same but found he was too stiff to move. He sat awkwardly in the opposite chair, looking anywhere but his face. At first, Vitamin John rambled on about who he was and his job and about the nature of confidentiality in the room. Then, when he was finally done with what sounded like a rehearsed introduction, he uncapped his pen and stared straight at Ethan.

“So, let’s get started, shall we? I spoke with your brother on the phone a few days ago about this, but I was wondering why _you’re_ here, _specifically_?”

Ethan bit the inside of his lip. “I thought he would have told you that.”

“Yes, he did. But I would like to hear it from you if you don’t mind.”

 _I do mind_ , he thought but knew better than to say it. That didn’t mean he had anything to say in its place, though. “I… um. Well, for the last -” he paused to calculate it “- I guess for the last few months I’ve just… things haven’t been great.”

“In what way? Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, I’ll just be writing a few notes throughout this.”

Ethan did mind but tried to ignore it. “I don’t know, I just… I guess I’ve just been depressed?” He internally shuddered at the word he tried so hard to escape from when he was a kid.

Vitamin John cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “What do you mean depressed?”

_You know that’s okay, right? To not have an answer?_

“I don’t know.”

Vitamin John smiled in a way that was probably mean to be reassuring. It just made Ethan angry. “You must know, surely.”

_I’m a doctor, I know that sometimes there isn’t a reason I can formulate._

“I just don’t know, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

He scribbled something down. “Try.”

 _I can’t_. The words stuck in his throat. After months of silence, talking about everything was hard. Especially with a stranger. But he wanted help… time to bite the bullet. “I just feel, sad I guess. All the time.”

“Do you know the difference between ‘sad’ and ‘depressed’?”

 _How bloody patronising._ “I’m a doctor.”

Vitamin John shrugged nonchalantly. “My question still stands.”

“Yes,” he said through ground teeth. “I know the difference.”

“So, _as a doctor_ , what you call ‘depressed’ could actually mean ‘sad’, wouldn’t you say?”

Ethan looked at him disbelievingly.

“Your brother told me about the crash you were involved in. October, wasn’t it?”

Ethan nodded, wishing he knew where this was going.

“Would you say this started before or after the crash?”

“After…”

He scribbled something down again. “Is there a chance you could be grieving for the person who died? Or it’s the after-effects of going through something that traumatic and nearly dying?”

Ethan looked away, grinding his teeth. “If it helps, I have a history of depression.”

“Oh yes, I know. But is there the possibility that that’s clouding your judgement? For all anybody knows, this could just be as a result of the crash. You may just need time to get back to normal.”

“It’s not like that. I’ve _tried_!”

“Your brother says you’ve stopped going into work.”

He dug his fingernails into his palms, glaring at him. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I just _can’t_ ,” he insisted.

“Is there a reason?”

 _I mess up. I kill people. I can’t be bothered to get out of bed most days. I’m a bad person. I deserve to be de_ \- “There's something… it's hard to explain, really. Bad stuff happened while I was there, it… I'm a bad person.”

He sighed, capping his pen and settIng it down. “We're not really getting anywhere right now. Ethan, level with me here. You have to give me _proper_ reasons. I can’t help you otherwise.”

Ethan stayed silent, shame building up inside him, and Vitamin John sighed.

“Okay. Let’s reset.” He uncapped the pen again. “Your brother says you stopped going into work, when was that?”

Ethan breathed deeply. _Reset, okay_. “I don’t know, really. It’s on and off.”

He looked at Ethan questionably. “So you go to work some of the time and not other times?”

Ethan sat up even straighter than before. “It’s not how it sounds.”

Vitamin John shook his head. “You can’t just duck in and out whenever you feel like it.”

“Yes, I know. Sometimes I feel like I can go in… sometimes I can’t.”

“Why?”

Ethan sighed. “I don’t know.”

“What made you go into work those times?”

 _Finally, a chance to explain._ “Um, well I didn't want to cause a problem. Being understaffed in an ED isn't preferable.”

Vitamin John tapped his pen on the paper a couple of times. “In my experience, if someone can't go into work, they can't go into work at all. Not for anything.”

Ethan felt his heart clench. It wasn't that _simple_.

“You can't just not go in because you don't feel like it.”

“It was easier those times. To get out of bed.” He absentmindedly scratched at his upper arm. “It's hard usually.”

“What made you get out of bed today?”

“Um, I wanted help I guess. I want to stop feeling like this.”

He nodded thoughtfully, writing more down. “And what's ‘this’?”

“It's hard to explain,” he said, they'd been here before. “I just feel down, like the world is crashing around me.”

“Hmm. What's your sleeping like?”

“Um. Sometimes it's hard to fall asleep. Most nights I get nightmares.”

“About the crash?”

 _Well, that's not a leading question at all._ “Occasionally.”

There was an uncomfortable silence where he wrote something else down and turned the page. “You have a history of self-harm.”

Ethan's toes clenched at the word.

“Is it something currently happening now?”

He felt his heart speed up and he couldn’t answer for a few moments. “I used to.”

“How long ago is used to?”

Blood pumped in his ears. He knew that everything was confidential up until a point. If he was a danger to himself or someone else it wasn’t, and he didn't know whether that was dangerous enough. “I don’t know, I don't keep track. I stopped ages ago.”

“And if I asked to see?”

“Scars, that's all.”

“Have you ever thought about suicide? I know in the past you've made attempts.”

 _That didn't take long._ “It's normal to think about death.”

“And suicide?”

 _You're not a danger to yourself, you're not a danger to yourself._ And he also wanted help, how could he ask without being a danger to himself? “Maybe.”

“Have you got a plan?”

 _Maybe._ “What do you mean?” he said, stalling while he thought. _Now he's assessing if you're a danger to yourself, for real._

“A plan to kill yourself. Have you got one?”

 _Yes._ He hesitated. “No.”

“So, have any interests?” he said after a few moments and scribbles.

Ethan finally clicked what was happening with the diverting conversation topics (and really wished he didn't). He had a checklist. A depression symptoms checklist and he was going through them, one by one. Like Ethan was a noticeboard. A robot with yes and no answers and reasons for everything.

“Not really.”

“What do you do when you don’t go to work then?”

“Lie in bed.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing, really. Thinking.” _About how I kill people. About how I'm a bad person._

He sighed, “well, I won't ask you what you've been thinking about because you obviously won't tell me. So, how's your eating?”

And Ethan realised right then that if he had just asked and bothered to look like he cared, Ethan might have actually told him. The words were on the tip of his tongue… all he had to do was ask. He just wanted someone who could help him, someone who looked like he gave a damn about something other than the paycheck.

He glanced at the clock. It had only been fifteen minutes. It was an hour assessment. He had a feeling it was going to be the longest forty-five minutes of his life.

* * *

“I don’t really know how we can help you, Ethan.”

Ethan twisted his sleeves in his hands. He’d just spent the last hour trying to talk to this guy about his problems, about how he could barely eat and sleep and how he just didn’t feel happy and the only way he could describe it was feeling nothing at all and how he wished he could put the universe on pause (“ _That's a bit childish don't you think?_ ” Vitamin John had responded) and how everything was going wrong... and all the _professional_ he did was shut him down and doubt him and move on and scribble things down with an annoying squeaking ball-point pen. “Fine. I’ll just leave here and never come back and you can just forget about me. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“No, you haven’t wasted my time,” sighing like Ethan definitely had just wasted his time.  “Just, there might not be a lot we can do. Maybe some talking therapy might help but there’s a long wait for that because we have to prioritise the people who need help.”

Ethan sighed, he should have gone with his gut instinct and not come. He shouldn't have tricked himself into thinking he might get help. That someone might realise that he was breaking apart.

“Not that you don’t need help, but you seem okay right now. I mean, you’re grieving and it’s a normal process to go through. Your mind is processing the accident. But you’ve got your brother and you’re not in any immediate danger from what I can assess.”

“Can I go now?”

Vitamin John wrote something down on a slip of paper. “Give this to reception and they can give you an appointment for talking therapy in about seven to nine months time. There is a waiting list, I’m afraid. You probably won’t even need it by that point.”

Ethan just nodded, getting up and making to leave.

“Good luck, Ethan,” he said, moving to shake his hand.

Ethan returned it, “thanks,” he ground out.

As he exited the office, he scrunched up the piece of paper in his hand and threw it in the bin on his way out. He met Cal in the car, buckled up his seatbelt and said nothing. Cal didn’t ask and they drove home in silence, Ethan staring out the window the whole way home and wondering why he even bothered to think he could get help.

 _You’re worth help, Ethan_ , Cal had said to him on the drive there.

Ethan watched the houses move by in a blur, tears welling in his eyes as they got closer and closer to their flat. _No, I’m not. I’m not worth anything. Not even life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay so disclaimer of sorts. Yep, this is problematic as fuck, but it's not that unrealistic. The NHS is great and 90% of the time it works out well. I've known a fair few people who've battled mental health problems and the NHS is great and helped them, but a lot of Ethan's battle with his mental health stems from my personal experience (obviously I still alter it a lot to fit the narrative of the story) and therefore this conversation does too. Apart from the alterations, this is based off an assessment I had a few years ago with a mental health, so it's not all that unrealistic. That being said, I'm not trying to put people off from seeking help. As I said earlier, I've known more people than not who've had a good experience with mental health services on the NHS. It's not perfect, but it's good, and you never know if you don't try.  Idk, I've definitely buried this experience and my thought process behind it happening to Ethan is because life isn't perfect and sometimes shit things happen. This is one of them, unfortunately. Yeah. I hope you enjoyed.


	39. Thirty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you." ― David Levithan, The Lover's Dictionary

_Wednesday, 31 December 2014_

Ethan didn’t speak the day of the assessment. He didn’t speak on the car ride home, he didn’t speak when Cal went into his room with lunch and sat with him, he didn’t speak throughout all of Cal’s attempts to make conversation with him, he didn’t speak when Cal said goodnight to him two days ago. Yesterday was spent the exact same way as well. Ethan didn’t speak and Cal was starting not to, here and there. Perhaps realising it was fruitless, perhaps realising that Ethan wasn’t worth talking to or perhaps just being patient.

He didn’t stop sitting with him though. He spent a lot of his time keeping him company both the day of the assessment and yesterday. (Ethan had a feeling it was not only to keep him company but also because Cal was scared he was going to do something stupid - but Ethan didn’t classify stupid as slicing his skin so he didn’t tell him he was doing it every night.) He’d called into work, saying he couldn't go in due to a family emergency and that said family emergency was Ethan. Although he didn’t talk, he hoped Cal realised by his face that he was very relieved Cal didn’t tell them anything personal. Cal simply told them it was too early to give details. (Ethan knew he never would be able to give details, not when there’s nothing to give details about - after all, it’s not like he’s actually got a problem.) And today was no different.

Ethan barely ate, but Cal didn’t give up. He didn’t bring him much food as a lot would make him nervous if he couldn’t finish it, but it was enough to be encouraging and maybe take little bites. Like a toddler, really. Little bites like a toddler.

(He shuddered, _“you’re not a child anymore, Ethan, there’s nothing to say this is mirroring your childhood either. You can’t keep thinking it’s the same problem.”_ Vitamin John’s words spun in his head. They had been doing for the past two days. Ethan was starting to believe him.)

If Ethan couldn’t stomach anything, Cal would wave it off and say it wasn’t a big deal. If he could eat at least one thing, Cal’s face would glow in pride for him. Like he really was a toddler.

He kept asking though. Infrequent though they were, the questions were still there. Different statements and differently phrased each time, but his persistence was there. He acknowledged that maybe Ethan needed time to talk and said that he could tell it didn’t go well, but he didn’t stop asking.

And despite the constant pressure to talk, Ethan didn’t mind it. If he kept asking it meant he cared. He cared enough to continue asking, to continue trying, to continue using his time to care about it. The minute he stopped asking it meant he stopped caring and Ethan didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

Ethan knew that if he didn't have Cal, he didn’t have anything. His brother was his lifejacket, keeping him afloat through all this. He always had been. Especially now, when everything had been questioned by a man who was more qualified in mental health and when Ethan was questioning himself, just knowing Cal was there for him was the most important thing he had. He used to be told not to link his entire being to one person because losing it will make him fall, but he couldn’t _not_. Cal was his safety net. His only safety net.

And if he can’t talk to his safety net he can’t talk to anyone.

That’s why, at exactly twelve minutes past twelve, Ethan surfaced from his bed and padded out of his room and to his brothers (the wooden floor beneath his bare feet was cold and he sort of wished he pulled on slippers), ready to finally talk about what happened. Cal went to sort something out in his room, leaving with the customary “if you want to talk you know where I am” and a smile. So, finally ready, he raised his hand to his brother’s door and-

-stopped. Cal was already talking. To someone else.

He let his hand fall to his side from where it was poised to knock, his breathing becoming shallower as Cal’s words start to filter through the door. He listened, knowing it was only going to end horribly.

“I don’t know,” Cal sighed and Ethan pressed his ear closer to the door to better hear the muffled speaking. “He won’t talk to me.”

_Is he_ _talking about me?_

“No, I mean won’t say a _word_ to me.”

 _Definitely me_ , he thought, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

“Nothing. Not since we came back from the assessment. … Two days. He just lies there, Lofty. I don’t know what to do.”

A part of Ethan wanted to burst in and tell him he was doing enough, just being there was enough, but a bigger part held him back because Cal was speaking to Lofty about _him_.

“John See.”

And now Lofty knew about Vitamin John which meant he definitely knew about Ethan. He felt fire rise up within him at the thought of Cal breaking his trust.

“It’s confidential, remember?” Cal audibly sighed.

_Like you know what confidentiality is, Caleb._

“I doubt Ethan told him about that. He would know that telling him he cuts would mean See would break the confidentiality thing and tell someone.”

Ethan’s hand gripped the handle. Lofty knew… he actually knew… _that_. He was going to punch Cal the minute he saw him.

“Positive. I mean he was bad before, but after going to see him… he just got worse. He shut down completely … Nah, no need to apologise, Lofty. You can’t have known it would end badly. … No, it’s seriously okay. You wanted to help and I agreed, remember? I thought it was a good idea too.”

 _‘Too’? ‘You wanted to help’?_ His knuckles went white as he held onto the handle. Cal had told Lofty so much that Lofty wanted to help. Which meant the assessment might have been Lofty’s idea. _How much did you tell him, Caleb?_

“Charlie?. … I don’t know. Ethan won’t even say ‘hi’ to me, I don’t know how he’d feel talking to him.”

_No._

“I guess not. I’m just so worried about him, I have no idea what to do anymore. I don’t think he’ll ever open up.”

 _Please don’t give up on me, Cal, I want to talk. I’m ready. Please don’t give up on me,_ was his first thought. But his second overpowered everything in him. _You can get lost, Caleb, I don’t need your help. Not after this_. _Not after what you’ve done._

“I’d never, he’s my brother. … Yeah, I’ll call. Doubt there will be an update any time soon though.-”

_You’ll never have an update ever again._

“-And thanks for the concern, mate, but it’s Ethan who needs it. … Yeah, I guess it is hard when he’s just this brick wall that I can’t break through. But it’ll be okay. I’m sure of it. … You too, thanks for all the help. Really appreciate it. See you.”

Ethan heard Cal put his phone on his bedside table, his frustration evident in the way it clunked against the wooden surface. And after days of not speaking, Ethan felt all the words rush out of him at once as he finally threw open the door, unable to hold back any longer.

“You had no _right_ to tell _anyone_ about _any_ of this, Caleb Knight. You’re meant to be my brother! I’m supposed to trust you and you’re supposed to keep that trust! You’re unbelievable. So _goddamn_ unbelievable.”

Cal stood up quicker than Ethan could blink. “Ethan-”

“Shut up! Don’t say a word to me!”

Cal stepped forward. Ethan stepped back.

“Don’t come any closer, Caleb, or I swear to God I will punch your idiotic face,” he said dangerously, glaring at him. “I can’t believe you. I actually was _stupid enough_ to trust you! Stupid enough to think you loved me enough to -”

“I do love you,” he said, voice cracking.

“No, you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t tell anyone about this. Anyone about _me_.”

Cal’s lower lip trembled. “How much did you hear?”

“Trying to cover your back? Make up excuses? I heard all I needed to hear,” Ethan said viciously, barely seeing Cal through the anger clouding him.

“You don’t understand-”

“Don’t talk to me about ‘understanding’, especially since you don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘trust’!

“Please-”

“Don’t you dare say another word!” he screamed. “I trusted you. I _trusted_ you!”

Cal looked pleading and Ethan didn’t give a damn. “If you just let me explain-”

“Why should I? Why should I ever speak to you ever again?” _Why should I let you pretend you love me?_

“Because everyone deserves to have a chance to explain! You know that.”

Ethan glared at him. “Don’t you dare try and turn this back on me.”

“Ethan- I’m not! I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot, Caleb. That’s the problem.”

“Oh, you’re impossible!” Cal shouted, finally giving up. He strode forward instantly and slammed the door in Ethan’s face. “You don’t want to talk, fine!” he continued from behind the door. “Have it your way!”

Ethan stood staring at the white wooden door in silence. His breathing was heavy and his arms were tingling.

He didn’t even need to consider what he did next. He didn’t care about Cal or his trust or how all he felt was betrayal and loss and loneliness, how this only confirmed Cal didn’t love him and didn’t care enough about him to keep his trust. He didn’t need to think about any of it. The sounds of Cal crying became background noise and his own tears fell in a waterfall, blurring everything around him. In only a few minutes, Ethan was in the bathroom, fumbling with a blood-covered blade and numbing the pain by creating it.


End file.
